Ginny Weasley: For the Record
by HinnyandRomione4ever
Summary: Ginny has accepted her position for her dream job and is on the road to independence. With or without her family. With the pressures of stardom and the new standards she's held up to, can she really make it in the world of professional Quidditch? Fame is a fickle thing. Rated M for safety. All rights belong to JKR. Has Hinny fluff. Slight OOC of canon characters.
1. Prologue

**A/N: The Holyhead Harpies in this story is like all the Holyhead Harpies in my other stories; **

** Joan Penney: Beater**

** Gwenog Jones: Chaser**

** Ginny Weasley: Chaser (of course)**

** Cecilia Morton: Keeper**

** Mia Larson: Beater**

** Marie Silverstone: Chaser**

** Sarah Donaldson: Seeker**

_I was sitting on my doorstep,_

_I hung up the phone and it fell out of my hand._

_But I knew I had to do it,_

_And they wouldn't understand._

All I could think was, what have I done? I mean, this _is _my dream. All I have ever wanted to do was to play for the Holyhead Harpies as a Chaser. But that meant that I had to move to Holyhead, which is a bit far from Ottery St. Catchpole.

My parents were a bit back and forth about the situation, and my eldest brother was against it. Percy didn't like the idea but he told me that I had to follow my dreams where ever they took me. Ron didn't seem like he was too fond of the idea. He sat in the corner silent, waiting for me to change my mind.

Harry. He was quiet. Almost hurt. I felt extremely bad about leaving him behind. Maybe he could visit me regularly. The problem was not only did our schedules have controversy, but now living so far apart, I'm weary about when we can be together. But I'm just a floo away between the hours of Nine o'clock at night to Ten-thirty in the morning. He could come to the matches but I knew it wouldn't be the same. We wouldn't be together like we used to be.

But, today I confirmed with the Holyhead Harpies manager that I was on my way. And I was willing to take the job. By Saturday, I will be completely moved out of Catchpole and be settled in Holyhead with a small flat, that wasn't as welcoming as the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. Yeah, less welcoming than Grimmauld Place. So, Today was goodbye to my family, I'll visit when I can, and hello to Holyhead, where I can start my intense training with Quidditch Legends.

_It's so hard to see myself without them,_

_I felt a piece of my heart break._

_But when your standing at a cross road,_

_There's a choice you got to make._

To be honest, I'm going to miss everything at home. I took one look around the living room. I smiled at the family pictures lined up on the mantle. There were so many memories behind each one, Everyone at Bill's wedding,The Quidditch World Cup, _that one was my favorite because Hermione and Harry were both included in the picture, _and so many others. I lifted one off of the mantle and held it in my hands. It was a yearly Christmas photo taken in my fourth year at Grimmauld Place. Remus, Tonks, and Sirius were in the photo. Along with the 'Golden Trio' as I have started to call them. And the rest of the Weasley's. Except for the eldest three.

"You can take that with you if you want." A voice said from behind me. I turned and saw my mum with a mellow smile on her face. I gave her a warm smile back and placed it back on the mantle.

"Thanks mum, but, I already have one that I'm going to take. Besides your collection won't be complete if I took it from you." I said, she stood next to me glancing at all of the photos, smiling.

"You don't have to leave you know. You can stay here, and _still_ play Quidditch." She said hopefully. I glanced at her, my expression dropping as I noticed her puffy, red eyes. I don't know if either it was because I was moving so far away, or because I was the youngest to leave, that she was being so emotional. I'm guessing it's because I'm the youngest. I don't recall her being so teary eyed when Charlie left.

"I'm sorry, Mum." Was all I could respond with. I didn't want to explain to her why, the reason was because I wanted to try being independent for a change. Also, because living in Holyhead would be a lot more convenient to get to training, even though it was less for any family occasion.

_I guess it's going to have to hurt,_

_I guess I'm going to have to cry,_

_And let go of some things I've loved to get the other side._

I gave the man my last luggage bag and turned back to my family. They all stood there teary eyed, _even if some were trying to hide it. _It finally hit me how much they cared about me. I walked over to my mother first.

"I love you, Mum. I'll write as much as I can." I said before hugging her. I could hear her sniffling on my shoulder, "Don't cry, Mum, I'll be back for Christmas before you know it. Just think of it like Hogwarts." I said pulling out of the hug and looking to my dad.

"No matter what, I'll always be your little girl, Dad. Don't forget that." I said giving him a warm smile and gave him a tight hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Ginny." He whispered. Now, I was about to tear up. I walked to Bill next.

"I know you don't like this, but it's my dream. And I'm sure Victoire would be better off not learning from me for awhile. I don't think the world could handle another girl like me." I said laughing before giving him a fleeting hug. I continued on with Fleur, Percy, Audrey, George, Angelina, and now to Ron.

"You better be good to Hermione. Don't drive her up a wall, okay?" He snorted.

"And you stay out of trouble. Or I will personally take a small vacation to Holyhead and bring you right back to London." He said hugging me.

"I'm not going to promise anything." I laughed. I stood back and went to my best friend. My hysterically, red nosed best friend who was bad at concealing her tears.

"I love you, Hermione. I'll write you as soon as I get there." I said hugging her tightly. We stayed in a hug for awhile. You never know how much your best friend means to you until you have to say goodbye.

"You better start writing as soon as you get on that train." She laughed. I giggled and opened my eyes, and found my boyfriend looking at us with a sad smile. I closed my eyes again taking in the last of the hug.

"Watch Harry for me. He's like a child and needs to be kept on a leash." I whispered. I walked to Harry and clasped my hands with his.

"So this is it, huh?" He said quietly.

"I guess…you're coming to the game, though, right? In two Saturdays at eleven?" I asked hopefully.

"ALL ABOARD! TRAIN LEAVES IN THREE MINUTES!" A man yelled from the distance.

"Of course." He finally replied. "But, I need to give you something." He said. Harry reached in his pocket and pulled out a mirror. It looked broken with a missing piece inside of it. I looked at him confused. "It's a two-way mirror. We can talk to each other by looking in it at the same time." He said taking out the missing shard. I smiled at my boyfriend. I loved him so much. I hugged him tight, letting tears fall down my cheeks. I really didn't want to say goodbye. But I had to.

"I love you, Harry." I said quietly.

"I love you too." He said back, kissing the top of my head. I stepped back and gave one last fleeting look at all my family members.

"I love you all so much." I said with a sad smile.

"ALL ABOARD! TRAIN LEAVES IN ONE MINUTE!" The man yelled ringing his cow bell. I took one more glance, turned and boarded the train. I walked into the seat that's window wasn't far from my family. As soon as I took my seat, the train started to move and all I could do was wave my family, goodbye.

_I guess it's going to break me down,_

_Like following a turn of light,_

_It's been said that sometimes moving on with the rest of your life,_

_Starts with goodbye._

I unlocked my door and almost immediately dropped all of my things on the floor. I never realized how heavy I traveled. But, I wasn't just traveling this was my 'home' now. Glancing around the dingy foyer, I noticed how much my new flat was different from the Burrow. There was a lack of constant sounds, causing my stomach to twist. It was too quiet.

The smell reminded me of Dolores Umbridge's office; cats and tea. It was definitely a place I'd have to get used to. But did I _want _to get used to it? Was this really the life for me? Questions stirred in my mind like small gnats swarming in the air, and nothing I could do would shake them off.

Taking a step into my new kitchen, I realized this was where I would be cooking my own meals from now on. No more meals from my mother. Oh, how that was going to be hard to get used to. I could only imagine that I would be terrible, or even too lazy, to cook anything and just turn in cooking for an easy make, roman noodle diet. That would be great to have along with my Quidditch career, _with as much sarcasm as possible._ I'll be a stick by October.

That night I made my new bed with my old sheets. I guess buying the flat pre-furnished was a good idea. But, I wish the bed wasn't so uncomfortable. But, was it really uncomfortable? Or was it because the room that surrounded the bed was not my pale yellow walls, with posters of the Holyhead Harpies and pictures of me and my friends? I need to get my mind off of the Burrow; I'd never learn how to be independent unless I start thinking like it. But, I couldn't help it.

My chest started to tighten from anxiety; my mind swirled with memories, and my lower eye lids filled with all that was left of my strength. Can I really do this? Is this really for me? My bottom lip starts to tremble. But I take a deep breath in order to stay calm. No. I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry.

I start to feel the stream of the one tear that surfaced itself, fall down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away with my palm, usually girls did this to make sure no one saw them cry, but, I was just shielding my tears from myself. More and more came down my cheeks; this was going to be harder than I thought.

_I know there's blue horizon,_

_Somewhere up ahead just waiting for me._

_But getting there means leaving things behind,_

_Sometimes life's so bitter sweet._

Here I am, first time ever inside the official Holyhead Harpies pitch. I take it in for all its worth, my dream was slowly coming true. Gwenog Jones, yeah; _the _Gwenog Jones, greeted me with a hug, _a hug, _telling me to go to the locker room and get ready for my first ever Holyhead practice. I walked slowly into the closed room, where I could hear other voices inside. That must be the rest of the team.

"You're Ginny Weasley, eh?" Mia Larson says as I walk up to the vacant locker with my name imprinted on the gold label above it. I turn around and nod my head with a shy smile.

"You're the one dating The Boy Who Lived, huh?" Sarah Donaldson said from next to Mia. I gulped; I usually heard that from people who were about to tell me I'm not that great for him, usually that was from his fan girls though. But maybe Sarah Donaldson _is _a mad fan girl.

"You don't need to be scared of us, you know, we don't bite." Marie Silverstone said laughing along with the others.

"Yeah, our action figures are a bit frightening but that was Steve and Lisa's doing." Joan Penney chipped in, causing more cackles from the other girls.

"Sorry? Steve and Lisa?" I asked trying to seem less of a complete coward.

"Steve and Lisa are our publicity managers. Trust us; you'll be getting to know them quickly. They are the people who schedule the photo shoots for the calendars, interviews, regulate the merchandise, oversee the media articles; everything goes through them." Marie said, almost as if she was irritated with the fact.

"But they're two little snakes. They'll make sure your name is heard." Sarah said in a lowered voice.

"I don't understand, what do you mean?" I asked a bit cautiously.

"Let me make it clear that the whole scandal about me last month, was all a fairy tale created by those two rats. They make sure you're on the front page of any magazine and will do anything for it." Joan said annoyed with the memory.

"Just stay away from those two as long as you possibly can. I'm sure the media will love to tear you apart." Mia added.

"Why me?"

"Because you're dating Harry Potter. You're only seventeen. Youngest girl ever to play professional Quidditch as a first string. They'll dig up your past and present or even future to make some type of publicity for you." Cecilia explained, creating more nerves to stir in Ginny's stomach.

"I'm sure some scandal will occur just because you're ginger. And when that happens, just blame Steve and Lisa." Mia said offering me a hair tie. I mutter a 'thank you' and tie my hair up but I can't stop thinking about everything the girls just told me.

Practice took everything out of me. It was surreal, and exhausting, but almost welcoming and a bit exhilarating. I loved it. As if this job was made just for me. I start remembering why I wanted to play Quidditch full time. Maybe this _is _the life for me.

I flooed home maybe a little too quickly after practice that day. I couldn't wait to check my mirror and see if Harry was on the other side. I missed him, and I just wanted to talk to him.

"Harry?" I said into the blank mirror. I hoped he wasn't asleep.

_I guess it's going to have to hurt,_

_I guess I'm going to have to cry,_

_And let go of some things I've loved to get to the other side._

_I guess it's going to break me down,_

_Like following a turn of light,_

_It's been said that sometimes moving on with the rest of your life,_

_Starts with goodbye._

He wasn't there. I double check the time. Ten o'clock. Of course he wasn't up. He had to get up at six o'clock every morning, so he always turned in early. I set the mirror back down on the worn out, cherry wood desk. Sighing, I started a fire in the fireplace, lucky for me; the Harpies crew had gotten me a flat that had one.

Soon, I wondered into my cramped kitchen, looking for something I could possibly eat, but I heard a roar come from my fireplace. The Floo System. Harry? Hermione? Mum? Dad? I basically run back into my little living room...slightly let down. Joan Penney, the Beater for the Harpies, was standing in my living room, completely comfortable.

"Um...Hello?" I said, completely shocked by how relaxes she was about coming over unannounced.

"Hey, Red, We all were wondering if you wanted to go out for a few drinks with us tonight."

"Red?"

"What you don't like your nickname? Okay then how about…Ginger?" She asks.

"And now I don't mind 'Red'." I say laughing.

"So are you coming or not, Red?" She asks slightly annoyed at the fact I wasn't forward with her.

"Sure, should I get changed?" I ask looking down at my jeans and sweatshirt.

"Yeah, wear the shortest cocktail dress you own." She says plopping down on the used couch.

"But I don't own a cocktail dress." I say awkwardly. She looks up at me like I'm a completely foreign creature.

"What do you mean by that? Isn't your family loaded?" I was slightly taken aback.

"What? No…not really." She got up and threw her purse on my couch. She slowly walked toward me and looked at me up and down.

"Alright, we may be able to work out something with either my dresses or Cecilia's. You're close enough to our sizes." She said before taking my elbow and dragging me through the floo system.

I couldn't believe it. I was in Joan Penney's flat. Wearing Cecilia Morton's dress. While Mia Larsen was doing something to my hair and Marie Silverstone was doing my makeup. I was literally surrounded by five of my all time idols. The only Harpy who was not there was Gwenog Jones. Sarah told me it's because Gwenog is a struggling alcoholic and her husband would never allow her to do any partying with them. Or I guess, us.

"Alright, Ginny, turn around." Marie said nodding toward the mirror that was behind me.

"Okay." I said before turning around and looking at myself in the full length mirror. Oh, Merlin. I looked like…well…I wasn't really sure what I looked like but I definitely did not look like myself. I looked like one of those girls that went out to pubs and bars to get pissed.

"Alright, one more thing." Joan said before disappearing into her closet and pulling out a pair of extremely tall high heels.

_Time heals the wounds that guilt me,_

_Somehow,_

_Right now._

After a few hours of partying and drinking, we all returned to my flat. And as soon as we got here, the girls decided to tell me that not only are we going to go shopping for clothes on Saturday, but also for décor. I don't think they knew that I didn't have that kind of money to spare.

I decided to just go along with it, it was one o'clock in the morning, I was drunk, I was wearing a tiny dress and a lot of makeup, and at that moment I didn't care about anything anymore. I forgot all about my anxieties and all of my fears, and at that moment I thought I was living a pretty independent life…well the most independent life I had yet to live.

_I guess it's going to have to hurt,_

_I guess I'm going to have to cry,_

_And let go of some things I've loved to get to the other sides._

I woke up in the morning to a familiar voice coming from my living room. Through my grogginess and my slight dizziness I felt myself walking pretty fast to the voice. But when I got there, there was no one in my living room; I glanced at the clock it was 6:18 in the morning, Harry would have gotten up already.

And then it hit me; the mirror. That's where the voice was coming from. I quickly made my way to the desk I had set the mirror down on just last night. And I finally see him.

"Hey, Gin." He said with a smile.

"Hey, Harry." I say, I was sure that my hair looked like garbage and my eyes had bags under them but I didn't mind.

"Gin, you look…interesting." He said cautiously.

"Yeah; the girls took me out for drinks last night, I fell asleep before I could take off the make up." I reply, rubbing the tired out of my eyes.

"You're not going to get into trouble are you? I mean, drinking before a practice?"

"Trust me, they were drinking too, and some of them were a bit more sloshed than me; Cecilia threw up at one point."

"That's nice…Is this whole going out thing going to happen often?" Harry asked causing me to pause. What did he mean by that?

"Um, I don't know; maybe. The girls told me that we're going to go shopping for cocktail dresses and stuff to decorate my flat with."

"But you hate shopping…" Harry said confused.

"I know, but I'm going to go anyways, it'll be fun. Plus I don't want them to think I'm some sort of prude, you know?"

"Right…"

_I guess it's going to break me down,_

_Like following a turn of light,_

_It's been said that sometimes that moving on with the rest of you life,_

_Starts with goodbye._

_**Do you think I should add another chapter? It's kind of a cliff hanger to leave off on…I was just trying to make a fanfiction where Ginny's job was throwing a few curve balls her way (I am a full on Hinny shipper, I would never end their relationship in any of my fics) but I just don't know if this is a good place to end it or if this would make a good chaptered story. You tell me.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Image

**So, I have decided on everything for this story. It's going to be how fame burns people who aren't prepared for it. It will vaguely be based on Britney Spears' story. (That's why it's called Ginny Weasley, For the Record; based off of Britney's documentary called Britney Spears, For the Record) **

**This will no longer consist of songfics but every chapter will start out with a quote from my queen, Britney Spears. Now you will never look at fame the same. **

**And Happy Birthday to Bonnie Wright (Feburary 17th), the exact woman who played my favorite character of HP; Ginny Weasley!**

"_If you have a dream, I say go for it. Just believe and work hard. Just remember that it takes time." –Britney Spears_

It's been about a week since I moved out of my parents' house and into my new flat here in Holyhead. I haven't made my decision on whether I like it here or not. The girls are super nice to me; which is something I wasn't expecting at all. The food here is decent but not amazing. With Harpies being on strict dieting plans, there is absolutely no chocolate or sweets that come in or go out of our dormitories. Boy, do I miss chocolate.

I've also started to realize what kind of commitment I've made by signing onto a Quidditch team. For instance, during my first practice, I was pulled aside by a couple of strangers asking me for a time where I'll consistently be at my flat. Of course, I didn't think twice about what they were asking and told them I would always be in my flat in the window between five o'clock in the morning to the time practice starts. Now, if you told me that those two were drug and alcohol supervisors, who come to your flat whenever they please and inspect not only are you home, but also test you to see if you've been under the influence within forty-eight hours of a game or practice, I probably wouldn't have given them that time frame.

This morning I was cozy in my bed, when my door bell rang and I was immediately forced to take a couple potions and watch them walk around my flat and check through my cabinets and under my bed for any illegal substances. I don't remember this being apart of my contract…at the same time I didn't read my contract.

Another commitment I've signed myself into would be having an image. I didn't know about this until my first meeting with Steve and Lisa. My publicity managers. I remember Marie warning me about them but I don't think I took it as seriously as I should have.

"Okay, Ms. Weasley, we have big plans for you; for one we need to figure out your image so tell us a couple things about yourself." Steve said whipping out a notebook. This man seemed short and stocky. He has—wait, is that a toupee?—and a very round face. To think this guy is the guy who comes up with photo shoot ideas and jersey designs seems quite ironic due to his mismatching outfit of a grey, plaid blazer, and a maroon striped shirt.

"Well, uh, I guess there's not much to tell. I'm the daughter of Arthur Weasley and—"

"Yes, and what is it like to be under the pressures of being the perfect image of a good girl for Arthur Weasley's sake?"

"What?"

"Well, being Deputy Minister's only daughter, you have some high standards to live up to. You have to be a smart, kind, well-behaved young woman."

"Um, well I guess, I've never thought about it. My dad's job has never come up as a model for me to live by—" I replied.

"Oh you know what would really give this girl some media buzz?" Lisa interrupted.

"What are you thinking?" Steve replied.

"Deputy Minister's daughter, a girl who's supposed to be perfect and well put together, is actually a complete mess."

"Wait, what?" I asked bewildered.

"I love that idea, Lisa." Steve said ignoring me, "Could you imagine the stir that would have. _Ginny Weasley: Bad Girl._"

"What do you mean 'bad girl'?" I asked. Steve looked at me with a small smirk.

"Major public 'whoopsies'. We need to see you harness a side of yourself that you've probably never used before." Lisa said leaning on her two hands that were stationed on the edge of the desk.

"You fought in the Battle of Hogwarts correct?" Steve asked.

"Yes, but—"

"That's even more perfect. She's a war hero as well. We could use that as her sympathy story."

"Sympathy story?"

"We need something that turned you bad. Something that gives you an edge."

"She has that bad girl look to her, don't you think?" Lisa said examining my face. This was all happening too fast that I couldn't stop it before it got out of hand.

"Yes she does. This is perfect! Since we lost our bad girl, Cynthia, to pregnancy, the team has been unbalanced."

"Excuse me, am I hearing you right? You want me to a bad girl?"

"You are hearing us perfectly." Steve replied, "We need you to become your worst nightmare. The kind of girl who starts fights, and gets drunk, and starts major scandals. We need you to be the snake with blue eyes."

"But I wouldn't do that."

"You _used_ to not do that. Now you will do that. And you'll have to do that in complete secrecy. We need this only to be between us. If your family reactions are genuine then the rest of the world will believe it. You're going to be the juicy news everyone will be talking about."

My meeting with the duo left me rattled. I didn't want to become a bad girl. I didn't want to start fights with people. I mean, yes, I've had a couple rebellious outbreaks in my life; I have a temper, and I'm not a giant sweetheart, but I don't think I would go out of my way to do anything questionable. It usually just happens to me.

So, now I'm shopping with Joan and Sarah for new clothes and items for my flat. And I really can't tell if what's happening is a good thing or bad thing. How about you judge for yourself?

"Wait, Ginny what is on your feet?" Sarah asks looking down at my yellow sandals. I thought I dressed okay for this occasion. It's just shopping.

"My old sandals?"

"No, sweetie, burn them when you get home. And don't ever wear anything like those again." Sarah leads me into a store that's completely empty; well, empty people wise, the shop is filled with clothing and mirrors and different accessories.

"Welcome to the Holyhead Harpies private shopping closet." Joan says throwing her purse on the couch.

"Wait, we have a private clothes shop?" I ask. Sarah nods.

"Okay, so as a Holyhead Harpy, you have a few things to remember. Rule number one; you have an entire fan-base watching your every move, once you become a big Quidditch star you start to set trends. Like those ugly sandals; if you wore those out in public, teenage girls are going to start buying and wearing the same sandals. Which, for the public's sake," she glances at my feet, "is a downgrade. So you need to look out for the amateur minds of young girls and pick out shoes with taste."

I glance at my shoes and gulp; I didn't think they were that bad.

"Rule number two; never look at the price tag. Don't worry; Double H has enough money for splurges. Rule number three; you always get more than two other girls to approve of your outfit. Preferably two from the team, but if not you still have your makeup artist, and your assistant and the rest of your company to help you."

"Wait; hold on a second, I don't have a makeup artist or assistant."

"No, you do; you just haven't met them yet. You have to approve on a few choices because they will be around twenty-four seven." Sarah says walking toward the far corner of the large, spacious shop. "Alright, so back here is all of the pants and slacks to choose from. Over there is where all of the shirts and jackets are. On this wall is where all of the shoes are, and on the opposing wall is where you'll find purses and clutch bags. And then over here is all of the jewelry and over there is all of the fitting rooms. Do you have everything?"

"I guess—"

"Good, now Joan, you should help her out, I'm going to shop for some stuff for me." Sarah said shooing us away.

"Alright, let's just go look at some tops first." Joan says leading me to the other side of the room, "So how are you feeling about this?"

"Okay; it's a lot to take in."

"Yeah, I remember when I was the new girl on the squad and Sarah was giving me the same spill she just gave to you." She says, searching one of the metal racks, "Don't take what she says personally. When we came here for me, it was my hair that was messed up."

"I'm guessing she's the fashion forward one on the team?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, I'm guessing you've already had your first meeting with Steve and Lisa. They created her into that. I've heard rumors that she used to be nice." Joan says smirking as she takes out a shirt and then put it back.

"Yeah, I did." I say looking through the shirts a lot slower than Joan does.

"What are you going to be?" She asks glancing up at me.

"I don't think it's decided yet…" I say taking out one of the blouses.

"Oh," Joan says as she takes out a leather jacket, "Well, we have to get clothes that fit your image, so what have they said so far, maybe we can just get some outfits that will go with what they're thinking." I stop looking through clothes and glance up at her. Her face drops, "Oh no."

"What?"

"You're going to be the new bad girl, aren't you?" I finally give her a long look.

"Why do you say it like that?"

"Because usually, the girl who acts like the bad girl becomes the bad girl. That's what happened to Cynthia. And she got with a ruddy guy, got knocked up, and now she's eight months pregnant, with a cheating husband, a crumbling marriage, and no job to support her or her baby." My eyes went wide.

"Things to look forward to?"

"Oh, don't let me scare you. It doesn't always work out that way. I'm supposed to be the promiscuous one. Which is total bullshit since I only have about three one night stands a week." I laugh but then I realize she's actually serious.

"Oh yeah," I say moving my attention back to the jackets.

"Do you know who we all are?" Joan asks in a weird way.

"Yeah?"

"No, I mean, what our 'images' are?"

"Oh, no."

"Well, Sarah is the fashion forward one. I'm the promiscuous one. Cecilia is the alcoholic. Mia is the trash talker. Marie is the smart, goody-two shoes. Gwenog is the bi-curious one. But do you understand what you are?"

"Not really."

"You're all combined. You're promiscuous, you like to drink, you will trash talk anyone who crosses you, you're going to be smart with your insults and comebacks, and, well, you'll experiment. Not to mention you'll also be the one with the most scandals, and you'll always be on the front pages of the magazines."

"But, who would be a fan of that?"

"No one…that's kind of the point. The bad girl is always the one that's just there to shock the world." Joan says pulling a few more shirts from the rack.

"But that's not me."

"What are you going to do? Fight it and lose your job? Trust me; you don't want to do that."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because the bad girls are the ones who get paid the most." Joan says walking over to the jeans.

"I'm not money driven though." I say, following her with a couple hangers of shirt and jackets hanging from my elbow.

"You say that now."

I floo back to my flat hours later with shopping bags upon shopping bags of trinkets for my house and new clothes for my closet. The fire acts up from behind me and Joan and Sarah follow through with more things than I had.

"Alright, I'm going to your closet and filtering out the gross clothes." Sarah says almost immediately as she drops the bags in the middle of my living room.

"Well, Red, this is where the fun begins. How about we start decorating the rooms and then check up on Sarah?" Joan says picking up the discarded bags on the floor.

"Okay." I say quietly. My mood has definitely been dropping since the first practice here. Holyhead seems really depressing. It's filled with fake people and failed dreams.

Holyhead, Wales is the entertainment centre of the Wizarding World. This is where witches and wizards migrate to so they can achieve their singing careers, painting careers, dancing careers, acting careers, and, for me, Quidditch career. When Joan and I walked to the salad place down the block from the Pitch, I saw three homeless people begging for galleons because they wasted all their money auditioning for jobs they didn't get. This place is just sad.

"Merlin, Ginny, I wouldn't even give this stuff to kids rotting in orphanages!" Sarah calls out from my room. My heart just sinks. _Okay, Sarah, I get it, I don't have designer clothes and I don't own any expensive shoes. I grew up with just enough money to supply my nine person family with food and clothing. I didn't have extra galleons sitting around to spend for my own personal enjoyment._

Joan sends me an apologetic look as she takes out the pillows Sarah picked out for my old, worn-down couch.

"Is she always this charming?" I finally snap.

"Not always, there are times when she can be compassionate. Just take it as jealousy and move on." She whispers back to me, "To be honest, I don't really like to be around her either."

I don't understand; if you don't like someone then don't hang around them. Why would you stay friends with someone who just tears you down? For popularity? To avoid confrontation? Why does this make me feel like I can't trust Joan either?

"Ginny, if I were you, I'd go check on what she's doing. She may throw away stuff without your permission." Joan says grabbing the painting from my hands. "That's what she did to me." I nod and walk over to the bedroom.

"Hey, I just wanted to see what you've done." I say quietly as I notice the pile of my old clothes on the bed.

"Oh, well, that pile is going to the garbage and that pile is the pile that we may be able to salvage." Sarah says as she opens up another drawer in my dresser. I walk over to the trash pile and feel my face flush.

"What? No. This isn't going into the trash! And neither is this!" I say pulling out a couple jackets and pairs of jeans from the pile. "My mother made this!" I say grabbing my famed, Weasley Christmas sweater. And then one last article of clothing stands out and my heart skips a beat.

I pull out the flannel shirt from the pile. Sarah turns and looks at me with a disgruntled look.

"Why do you want to keep that? It's an oversized, old flannel shirt that has no value to it."

"It's my boyfriend's." I say, temper rising.

"If it's his, why do you have it?"

"I don't know; don't you have any of _your _boyfriend's clothes?" I ask going through more of the trash pile.

"No; I don't want a man."

"Or no man wants you." I mumble under my breath.

"Okay, Weasley, if you're going to get snarky with me, then it's obvious you don't want my help." She says closing the dresser drawer.

"No," I say grabbing her arm so she doesn't leave; although I really don't like her attitude, I need her. I obviously don't know anything about clothes, "I do need your help. But, can we not throw away my old clothes?"

She give me a long, hard glare and then breathes deeply out of her nose, "I guess."

**Don't worry conflict will come soon! Review! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3: Family Reunion

_"I think, you know, there was the honeymoon faze; oh my gosh, look what she gets to do and where she gets to go and what she's exposed to, but when that ended, we weren't prepared for it." –Lynne Spears, mother of Britney Spears. _

"Take this, gargle and then spit it back out into the cup." Mr. Jolley says, handing me a small, paper cup with a clear potion. I do what he says and he takes the potion back. I watch as the potion slowly changes to a yellow color.

"Well, looks like you're all clean; I'll be out of your hair so you can catch some more sleep before the game." He says whilst putting his supplies away. I yawn looking at the clock. There's no point in trying to go to sleep now with the match starting in four hours. I follow him to my door and wish him a good day.

"Good luck against the Arrows, Ms. Weasley." He says finally leaving my apartment. I sigh and take a seat at the counter and go through my letters again. Most of them are short notes from my family, saying that they got to Holyhead and they're all meeting up for a brunch before the game.

This past week had been a busy one, with practices and meetings with my 'company' as everyone seems to call them. I chose my make-up artist, my personal assistant, and my personal trainer who manages my diet and my personal work out regimen.

Alexis, my make-up artist was quiet and reserved but according to Steve and Lisa, she did the best job out of the three candidates. I'll be using her when I make public appearances and photo shoots. Felicia, my assistant, was the friendliest, and seemed to really care about me and making the right decisions. I need someone like that around me, making sure I don't get myself into trouble. The kind of trouble Steve and Lisa may be brewing up for me. And lastly, Xavier, my personal trainer, was the most intimidating guy on the planet. This, according to Gwenog, is exactly what you want in a man who's going to be forcing you to exercise.

I take out the last letter and open it,

_Gin,_

_Made it to Holyhead, going with Ron and Hermione to brunch with your family. Good luck today. Stay safe._

_xx Harry_

I smile at his scribbled writing and attach his note to the fridge. Its time for me to get ready; its game time.

I sit in the Team Room on the wooden benches staring at the chalk board Gwenog is writing on. We're revising plays; making sure that everyone knows them when the time comes.

"So, Marie, when you get the Quaffle you fly south and then around toward Ginny, you pass it off to her and go block that blonde, scruffy chaser. Ginny, once you get the Quaffle you fly down toward the ground and the take a sharp turn up and throw the Quaffle into my hands, from there I'll go score. Now, during that, Joan and Mia, make sure you keep charge of the Bludger and hit as many other players as possible. Mia, make sure its players from the other team this time." Gwenog says, throwing Mia a look. Mia rolls her eyes and huffs.

"Alright, we have ten minutes until the whistle, get on the pitch and fly ten laps, make sure nothing's wrong with your brooms, and then meet back at the doors." She says, pointing to the exit. I look over at Joan and she gives me a nervous smile.

"You okay?" I ask.

"I have pre-game jitters every match. Are you nervous?"

"A little; you see the only brothers of mine that have seen me play an actual game of Quidditch are the twins and Ron. So, my eldest three know I can play Quidditch but they've never seen it. They're all here, and I'm so afraid of messing it up." I pause, "And I want to do well for Fred." My hand instinctively goes to my necklace.

"What's that?"

"My necklace. Fred and George bought it for me for my fifteenth birthday. That was the year they opened the shop and had enough money to buy us something a little bigger than what we usually got."

"I'm guessing you guys were pretty close."

"Yeah." I say, tucking the necklace under my jersey.

"Ladies, laps." Gwenog says, popping her head in the doorway. We nod and grab our brooms from the rack.

The large, double doors to the stadium are opened; Joan and I mount and take off. We fly up and pause for a second, looking around the stadium.

"There are a lot of people here," Joan says, "Look! Your family is here." She says, pointing to a wooden family box across the stadium. It's filled with red-headed adults smiling and waving. I laugh and wave back.

"Ladies!" Gwenog yells up to us.

"We better start flying laps if we don't want to endure the wrath of Gwenog." Joan laughs. We fly through the air, around the stadium until Gwenog gestures us back into the double doors and back into the Team Room.

"The Appleby Arrows are not a team we should look to as an easy win. The second we put our guard down is the second they'll sneak up on us." Gwenog says, passing the handle of her broom from one hand to the other, "Play well, girls, I love each and every one of you." She adds with a serious face. I can't tell if she's serious or just saying that, but for some reason I feel my nerves go away.

The whistle blows, and we all mount our brooms. The double doors open and we fly out in unison, the crowd goes wild, green flags and confetti wave in the air. We make a lap around the pitch and as we circle the field, "_HARPIES FOR THE WIN" _appears in the crowd.

We take our positions across from the players in gold, the Arrows. The blonde chaser in front of me stares me down, I can't tell if it's in an intimidating, or emotionless way, but I give it back to him. The official in white walks to the center of the field and holds his wand to his throat.

"Hello and good evening to all who join us to witness the first game of the 1999 to 2000 Quidditch season. Here, we shall watch the Holyhead Harpies go head to head with the Appleby Arrows. Will the captains take there positions in front of me?" Gwenog and the sturdy, brunette man with a five o'clock shadow fly down and stand on the field in front of the official, "Alright, Gwenog Jones and Kris Abbes, shake hands to ensure a clean game on both sides of the pitch."

Gwenog and Abbes give each other a forced smile and shake hands.

"Now, you may return to your playing positions." The man says, "Alright, with my authority, I declare this match," he pauses, "has…begun!" He opens flicks his wand to the trunk next to him and the latches snap open.

The red Quaffle flies into the air and we all scramble to gain possession of it. A girl dressed in gold is the one to catch it first and flies high toward the hoops Cecilia is hovering in front of. Marie and I look over to Gwenog for guidance and she nods, I take that as my signal and gain speed on her trail.

I fly a little past her and then take a sharp turn to cut her off her trail. Caught off guard, she takes a ninety degree turn to the ground waiting for her there is Marie, who flies toward her and grabs the Quaffle out of her hands before she flies too close to the ground. She flies north until she's back in level with the rest of the game, and weaves through the players wearing the golden jerseys. She ducks as a Bludger flies a centimeter above her head. She weaves around another player before passing the Quaffle to me. I hear the announcer narrate what's happening but it all sounds like jumbo as I hear the cape of my uniform flap in the wind. Gwenog flies next to me and whistles, that's my signal to speed up and throw the Quaffle into the left hoop.

The Keeper doesn't know what hit him, it made it through, just seconds before he could catch it. The crowd erupts in cheers and confetti is exploded in the air once more.

"Ten points scored by the rookie, Weasley!" The announcer's ostentatious voice roars through the speakers. The official whistles, signaling the goal to be good. A chaser for Appleby gains possession of the Quaffle and starts to move back toward Cecilia. And the scrambling begins again.

It's been about half an hour and the score is now 180-320. Apparently, we hadn't taken Gwenog's talk before the match to heart, because we put our guard down, and they _did_ sneak up on us. To make things worse, Marie had thrown out her shoulder when she got hit with a Bludger, I'd like to think that's why we're trailing behind, but, in reality, we just got cocky when the score was 140-90.

The Arrows' chaser jerks the ball away from Gwenog and swiftly flies through the air. Gwenog immediately trails behind her but she's just too fast. I fly next to her but she bumps into my side to push me off my broom. The crowds boo as I almost fall off; remember when the official asked for a clean game? She chucks the ball into the middle hoop and it flies throw Cecilia's hands. I can tell that Cecilia is taking it hard. She's off her game today. Now the score is 180-330.

And what comes next is worse.

"I think Robin Burke sees the snitch!" The announcer calls, as the Seeker flies through the air with his arm extended, Sarah isn't far behind him. Panic overcomes me. All the players pause to watch the Seekers chase the golden Snitch. Sarah catches up to him and now they're neck and neck. I look at the scoreboard and I realize, if Sarah does catch the Snitch, we still wouldn't win. We'd tie and when teams are ranked they take ties and count them as losses.

I look around hurriedly for the Quaffle and I see it in Marie's hands. But, she's not moving like the rest of the players, I look at Gwenog and she's watching Sarah as well. What's gotten into everyone? I see Sarah get closer to the Snitch, and I decide something needs to be done. I speed to Marie and take the Quaffle out of her hands. Everyone looks at me confused and I soar to the hoops with the Quaffle at the ready. The Keeper seems as alert as I am, getting pass him won't be easy. I start to feel the other Chasers tailing me and the crowd starts to cheer.

"Sarah is centimeters away from the Snitch!" The announcer yells. I speed up.

"GO WEASLEY!" Gwenog screams.

I throw the Quaffle into the air and the Keeper flies in front of the right hoop, I'm meters away from the goal, and I decide to fake him out. I punch the Quaffle toward the left hoop before he can do anything. The Quaffle flies through the hoop just as the official blows his whistle.

"Sarah has caught the Snitch!" The announcer yells. We all turn to the score board. First the score turns to 330-330 and I feel my heart sink. Then the official blows his whistle one more time, and the scoreboard ticks to 340-330.

"Harpies win!"

The crowd of green goes wild with green confetti one last time. All the players fly down to the grass and stand on their two feet. I see Abbes throw his glove on the ground, and all the Appleby Arrows fly into their double doors across the field. And then something happens…

"Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!" The crowd starts to chant.

"Weasley, you did it!" Joan screams, crashing into me with a hug.

"We won 'cause of you, Red!" Mia yells, joining in. Soon, six girls are hugging me.

"What a great game here in Holyhead, and all because of the newcomer Ginny Weasley!" The announcer says aloud. And I feel worth it.

The locker room is in high spirits—I guess everyone forgot that we almost lost—and most of it was projected toward me. I finish changing and start to braid my hair into a loose plait.

"Sara, you did well, too." Gwenog finally says to the brunette in the corner.

"Thanks." She replies quietly, she sends me an unreadable look before walking out of the room. My joy wavers and I realize I should feel guilty that she hasn't received any credit for catching the Snitch.

"Ready to sign autographs, Red?" Mia asks, hanging an arm around my shoulders. I smile at her and nod. We walk out of the locker room and I'm met with flashes from cameras and cheers of Harpies' fans. The others group behind me and smile for the pictures.

We're ushered by Steve and Lisa to sit behind a long table facing the crowd. There's a sign above my head that reads '_Harpies' autographs'. _All of the teenagers and their parents line up along the ropes with posters and photos in their hands. I open up the black ink and dip the quill sitting in front of me into it.

First, an acne-ridden girl steps in front of me with a nervous smile. She has the edition of _Witch Weekly_ that announced my signing to the Harpies.

"Hello," I say brightly to her and she takes a few nervous breaths.

"I'm sorry, I'm so nervous to meet you, I mean, you're Ginny Weasley, you just saved the game for us! I love you!" She says smiling. I sign my signature on the cover.

"Well, thank you, I love you too." I smile, handing her back the magazine. I lean on my elbows and continue, "Do you play Quidditch?"

"Yeah, a little. I'm not as good as you."

"Well, the more players the better. Keep to it and we may be playing on the same team." I say before she's ushered to the next player. I sign about a hundred more autographs before the crowd starts to weed away. Finally, I can see a large group of people in the background. Most of them have bright red hair with the exception of a few. I finish the last of the autographs before Steve and Lisa lets us leave the table.

Marie is the first to shoot away from the table and into her boyfriend's arms. And I feel myself wanting to do the same as I see Harry standing next to Ron and Hermione smiling at me. I feel my feet take off and I run toward them. Soon, but not soon enough, I'm Harry's arms, with my face buried in his shoulder, and my arms around his neck.

"Congrats, Gin." He laughs.

"Thanks!" I reply, leaning back to look at his face in person for the first time in two weeks. He smiles down at me and I feel at home.

"Yeah, we missed you, too." George says from behind me. I laugh and hug him as well, "You played well, Gin-bug. Didn't know you had that in you."

"Well, I was always the underestimated one." I say dramatically with my hand over my heart.

"You can say that once more and then never say that again." Charlie says from behind George. I smile and he pulls me into his embrace.

"I was always the underestimated one." I repeat in a joking way.

"Next Sunday dinner you're here, you're on my team." He whispers, winking at me.

"Um, excuse me, eldest privilege; she'll be on _my _team." Bill interrupts. I shake my head, laughing and look over to my parents. I walk to them and smile up at my father and smile down at my mother. Sorry, just needed to say that.

"Congratulations, Ginny." Dad says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"You were outstanding, Ginevra." Mum adds kissing my cheek.

"Thank you." I reply, smiling.

"So, where's the best place to get a late lunch here, eh?" Ron asks.

"Oh, Merlin, there are so many choices," I reply, "I think my favorite is the restaurant about two blocks down from here, its name is…er…" I tap my head, trying to recall the title, "Oh! _The House at Holyhead._"

"Do you want to go there?" Mum asks me.

"Sure." I reply taking Harry's hand, he smiles down at me. "It should only be a ten minute walk."

We walk out the back way of the Pitch, like Gwen advised, to avoid the mob of reporters and fans that wait outside the main entrance. It only takes us about seven minutes before we reach the entrance to _The House at Holyhead._ Joan and Marie had taken me here the first Friday I was here. That's the night they filled me in on the team and the Harpies Company, which includes Steve and Lisa. According to the duo, Steve was a married man when he started working at Holyhead, but when he was assigned a partner something fishy started happening and within six months of their partnership, Steve and his wife filed for divorce. Of course, the girls never asked him why, that would rude and nosy, but they're pretty sure that Lisa may have had something to do with it. Affair? I think so.

That's also the day when they warned me of things to look out for with the publicity managers. Such as scandal rags and newspaper articles; according to the girls, they will pitch out a story to Rita Skeeter and the _Daily Prophet _faster than you can say

'_Stupefy'._

The hostess in the restaurant leads us to a long table in the back of the dining room, away from prying eyes and potential reporters. As expected, I take a seat next to my boyfriend and my best friend. The dinner goes well, with conversations about work and family dinners I've missed along with talk about Quidditch and what it's like to live in Holyhead, away from Ottery St. Catchpole.

The goodbye to my family and friends is the worst part. Bill and Fleur have to get back to Gabrielle, who is babysitting Victoire at the moment. Charlie has to get back to Romania and rest before work. George and Angelina need to get back to managing the shop, they left Lee in charge and he's probably pulling his hair out. And so on and so forth. I hug and kiss everyone goodbye, telling my mum I'll try to see when I can come home for a Sunday dinner.

And now, Harry and I are alone for the first time in over three weeks; the last week of my stay at the Burrow was beyond hectic and I was surrounded by people too much to even get a chance of privacy with him.

"Want to go back to my flat?" I ask as we walk hand in hand up the block.

"Sure." He says, one hand in his jean pocket.

"Hopefully you like it, Sarah picked out most of the décor and stuff but I have a lot of pictures of the family around…and a few of us." I smile up at him.

"So, how are you getting on with the girls?" He asks. I realize we never really get into conversation about the team when we talk in the two-way mirror, just how much we miss each other and little things; now we can have a real conversation.

"Oh, you know, I get along with most of them. There are times when I feel like an outsider, but, I think that'll change once I've been on the team for a long time." I say, "I think they don't know what to say and what not to say around me."

"You said you get along with most of them, but not all of them. Who's the one you don't?"

"Well, it's not that I don't get along with her, but that we don't really see eye to eye. Sarah. She's very—what's the word—opinionated. And very blunt. I guess I'm just not used to it. And then with the others, I feel like they're just putting on a fake façade for me to get dirt on me sometimes. Like Cecilia, she'll be really nice to me but she'll talk trash about the other girls when it's just me and her, at first, I don't care, but then I realize if she'll talk trash about the other girls while they're gone, what makes me any different?"

I finish my spill and look up at him; he seems as though he's trying to come up with advice or something to say, but I decide to change the topic before he can.

"I guess it's just been an odd, couple of weeks. How about you, any differences at the auror department?"

"Not really, same old, same old. We haven't gotten much call in for anything really." He says, looking forward, "I hope that means all the chaos of the war is finally over."

"I hope it does too." I add, before we turn into the Victorian building that is where the Harpies' dormitories lie. I lead him up the stairwell to the third floor where my small flat is. I unlock the door with my muggle keys and walk him in. He closes the door behind himself and looks around.

"See, I told you, it's pretty small, but I've gotten used to it. I think it's cozy." I set my bag on the counter and he takes off his jacket. "Oh, here," I say taking his discarded garment and hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

"You made it sound like its horrible here. I like it." He says scanning the open kitchen and living room. I lead him into the bedroom and then show him my bathroom that's smaller than the one I grew up with.

"And then there's the fire escape." I say, opening the sliding door to the metal framed deck. It's only about six square feet of space but it's nice to get away in. "And that's it." I say leaning up on the railing.

"You're view is nice." He says leaning up on the rail next to me.

"I like it the best at night, when all the neon signs are lit and you can see the moon." I reply, "But, you can't see any stars, maybe a few here and there but nothing like you see at the Burrow."

"Are you missing home?" He asks, studying my face.

"A little, but I do like it here. It's nice to be making a name for myself. Even if didn't seem like it back then, I was always Ron's little sister, or the only girl Weasley, or, and please don't take this personally, Harry Potter's girlfriend." I answer, "And when the crowd started to cheer my name after the match," I smile, "I don't know, I felt liberated. Like I made the first step in becoming Ginny Weasley, no subtitle needed."


	4. Chapter 4: Lie in

**A/N: WARNING: This chapter contains a passionate make out scene, it's not too raunchy or passionate to change the rating of the story but it is passionate. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!**

_"Fell in love with you and everything that you are. Nothing I can do, I'm really crazy about you. When you are next to me it's just like heaven on Earth. You are heaven on Earth." –Britney Spears._

I wake up with the most serene feeling possible. There's a heavy arm slung around my waist and a faint breath on my neck. I smile and turn in the embrace that's keeping me under the soft white sheets. He's still asleep, but I don't mind. As creepy, and stalkerish as this sounds, I like watching him sleep. It's the only time where he looks his own age, and looks completely at peace with the world. I snuggle in closer to his bare chest and slide my hand in between his waist and the sheets.

Today, is my day off, but tomorrow is quite the opposite. When I got my letter in May, that informed me that Gwenog took interest in me during my try-out, I didn't know that being a Quidditch Player came with such a time commitment—more like life commitment. But, I'm doing what I love. It makes me laugh when I think back to fifth year, when McGonagall asked me what career choice I had in mind, and I told her I had no clue. Of course, secretly, I had Quidditch on my mind, but McGonagall was known to not accept professional Quidditch as a career choice.

Another career was in mind, but I know from the start that that wouldn't work out. Flying instructor? Ha; like I'd be at peace with teaching spoiled brats how to fly. It's not so much that I hate kids; I just don't like being in charge of other parents' kids. If I had children of my own, I'm sure I'd be okay, I'm sure I'd be happy.

But, why am I rambling about children? Especially children made by me. I'm only seventeen. A little over a month ago, I had graduated from Hogwarts. I just started my career about two weeks ago, and I'm already talking about children? Slow down, Ginny, you got time. How about let's get back to reality? Okay.

I'm just simply, unequivocally, happy to be lying in bed with Harry. It had been a long two weeks without these kinds of moments. Like waking up next to him, eating dinner with him, spending the day in bed with him. I feel his breath flow on top of my head, against my hair. It faintly tickles me and I pull back once more to see if he's awake. He shifts a little, telling me he's going to wake up at any moment. I move my hand from his waist and through his unruly, knotted hair. He groans a little and his eyes peel open.

"Hey," He says in a raspy voice. I giggle a little at him.

"Good morning, sunshine." I reply, cheekily. He adjusts his head and looks at me with his uncovered, green eyes. His hand on my waist starts to rub my bare back.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." I say, running my nails gently along the back of his neck down to his back. He moans again, but before I could go any further he rolls and reaches for his glasses on the bedside table. He clumsily slides them on his face and rolls back to face me.

"I have to leave around five if I want to get back to London at a decent hour." He says, moving a stray hair behind my ear, "What do you want to do until then?"

"I don't want to go anywhere. Want to just have a lie-in?"

"Sounds perfect." He says, kissing my hair. I rest my forehead on his chest again and the comforting silence glooms the room. We stay like this for a while, until the silence ends, "Gin, did you fall asleep?"

"No, I'm still awake." I say, looking up at him.

"If I'm boring you, you can tell me." He says with a crooked grin.

"You're not boring me." I reply, "If you were boring me I would do something like this," I add before wrapping my arm around his neck and grabbing hold of his lips with mine. It was a small, chaste kiss that only lasted a second.

"Oh, really?" He asks after I pull back smiling, "Because if you were boring me, _I_ think I'd do something like this." With one swift motion, I'm under him, pinned to the bed, and he claims my lips in a very passionate embrace. He pulls back for a second but I shake my head and pull him back down to me. Now, this kiss is a bit more passionate than the last. I breathe in through my nose and am met with his enticing aroma of lemon, grass and broomstick polish. I love that smell. I move my hand to his cheek on his slight stubble and run my other hand back through that unruly, knotted, jet black hair that I find irresistible. I taste the slight essence of firewhiskey on his lips and I smile. I feel him start to play with the ends of my hair and he starts to smile under my lips as well. I kiss him harder and soon my mouth is parted by his tongue. We explore each others' mouth, spelling out our names in cursive with our tongues. His hand moves to the back of my thigh and the other stays firmly planted between my shoulder blades.

"Harry." I moan. He keeps kissing me, but it's become a little overwhelming, I move my hand down his bare back and poke him in his side. He abruptly stops and pulls back. I can finally take a breath, "I'm too hungry for this." I laugh. He snickers along.

"Well, what do you want for breakfast?" He asks.

"You know these past couple of weeks have been long, and tough. Everyday I couldn't help but wonder how I could make it easier for me and I thought back to breakf—"

"You want me to make you pancakes again?" He interrupts.

"You know me all too well." I say, kissing his nose. He snorts and rolls off of me.

"Anything for you, Ms. Weasley."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter."

After a peaceful breakfast and lunch in bed, with stupid, little chats about nothing in particular, we retired to the balcony of my flat. We lean on the rails like we did last night.

"I don't want you to leave yet." I say.

"I'm not leaving for another three hours." He replies.

"I know, but it's going to be a quick three hours." I retort, "What's the chance of the Auror Department opening a branch in Holyhead and you being transferred to it?"

"Pretty slim." He replies with a sad smile. I sigh and look down to the rusting, metal frame of the fire escape. "Hey," He starts, hugging me from behind and resting his head on my shoulder, "It's not as bad as it seems, sure, we're not going to see each other for the next three weeks," He kisses my tank top strap, "but, we're both going to be busy with work and practices and it's going to be over before you know it."

I slightly nod but I keep my eyes down, he continues, "Come on, I don't want to spend these last three hours with you in a depressed fog," He plants a kiss behind my ear, "Come on, Gin, do I have to call in George? Because I will if you don't stop moping."

I take a deep breath and turn my head with a small smile.

"There's the Gin I wanted to see." He says, swaying us side to side. I playfully roll my eyes and turn around to face him.

"Sorry, I just don't want to be alone again." I say, playing with the top button on his shirt.

"You won't be. You'll have the team." I send him an unbelieving look, "You will. Gin, I'm sure by the end of this week, you'll all be buddy-buddy and you won't want me to come back." He joked.

"That's not true. I'll never not want you here."

"Good because I got you something—I know, I know, you don't want any gifts but at least let me give you this one last thing." He says, pulling out a ring box from his back pocket.

My eyes widen, "Harry Potter, do not propose to me right now."

"Oh! No! It's not that! I guess I shouldn't have presented it that way." He replies, quickly.

Pause. Ginny, why were you relieved he wasn't proposing to you? One reason, and one reason only, my friend, for one, we live two and a half hours away from each other. Two, I'm only seventeen. Three, I haven't done my hair and that's not how I would want to be proposed to. Continue.

"And when I propose to you it won't be so casual. No, this is a promise ring." He says, opening the box. A silver band with a light green, Peridot centered in the middle catches the light. I smile at the ring and look back at him, "I just wanted to give you something that proves to you that I haven't forgotten about you. Hermione told me that your birthstone is a Peridot so I thought it was fitting. It's my promise to you that I love every part of you."

I smile at him. He slides the ring onto my ring finger on my right hand but it stopped at my knuckles.

"Well, this ruins the moment." He curses, frustrated with his cruddy sizing job.

"No," I say, moving it to my pinkie. "I love it." I wrap my arms around his neck.

"I can get it resized." He says, seriously.

"Don't you dare, I love it the way it is." We sway side to side to no music. "Anyway, my ring size is a six when you and Hermione are looking for an engagement ring." I wink.

"Well, I was about to get you a six but then Hermione told you me that you would be one ring size smaller than her so I went to a five." Harry explains. "I'll have to tell her you both are the same."

"Well, it's not a problem today so, don't worry about it." I assure him with a genuine smile. I stand up on my toes and he grins at me, "I love you." I whisper.

"I love you, too." He replies and I pull him for a kiss. I know, I know, we have been kissing a lot today but we have two weeks to make up for, don't judge me. I breathe in that lemon, grass and broomstick polish scent and smile.

* * *

"So, I'll see you in three weeks?"

"Totally, you're going to kick arse in the match against the Wasps." He replies shrinking his bag and sliding it into his pocket.

"You'll write to me, right?"

"Of course, and we have the two-way mirrors as well."

"I know, but it's hard to find the time that we both can talk." He sends me an understand look and I take this moment to pull him into a hug.

"Goodbye, Ginny." He whispers into my hair.

"Bye, Harry." I say, kissing his cheek. He opens the door and with on last fleeting look, he leaves.

"Close your eyes, Ms. Weasley." Alexis Pierre orders me. "No, no, no, lightly; like you're taking a nap, Ms. Weasley." She says, before brushing on eye shadow to my lids.

"Alexis, please call me, Ginny." I say as she works.

"Okay, Ginny, tilt your head back." I oblige. Today is my first photo shoot with the Holyhead Harpies, and I can feel the bile rising in my throat. Why am I nervous, you may ask? Because, well, pictures last forever. My game stats and scoring records will last for a long time, sure, but when people are flipping through a magazine what are they looking at? The numbers or the pictures? Exactly. I rest my case.

"So, Ginny, how are you doing?" Felicia, my personal assistant's voice reaches my ears.

"Well." I reply.

"Good, now you have your photo shoot for the next two hours, all of your outfits are over to your left on the metal rack. Put on the jersey with the jean shorts first. And then you have a two hour workout with Xavier. And then you have practice at eleven o'clock." She says in an orderly fashion.

"Wait, when do I eat?" I ask, opening my eyes once Alexis finished the eye shadow.

"You'll grab something in between your workout and practice." She says going through her clipboard. I lean back into the chair and groan. Its seven o'clock in the morning and I can barely focus, let alone wrap my head around the fact that I won't have the bountiful breakfast that I am craving. "Now, tomorrow you'll have your appointment with Barbara, too bad we couldn't have had it today so your skin could be in tip-top condition for the photos but she's busy with Oliver Wood this morning."

"Wait, Oliver Wood has an esthetician?"

"Of course; he's the eye candy for Puddlemere, he needs to have someone taking care of his skin to keep him in well condition."

"Ms. Weasley is needed in five minutes!" A young man with a clipboard calls into the room.

"I'll have her done in four." Alexis yells back, adding a little blush on my cheekbones. "You can go put your outfit on." She says, surveying her work before turning my chair for me. Felicia examines the makeup and hair once more, and then nods to me to go get changed. I unhook the hanger from the rack and walk into the bathroom that's connected to the dressing room. I hang the clothes on the door handle and look in the mirror.

Wow. Well, that's something to get used to. I don't look bad; just caked—well, caked in my opinion. Most people would say that this is standard photo shoot make up; but for a girl who usually wears the occasional mascara, this is—wow.

I start to strip and put on the pre-chosen outfit, Felicia had pointed out to me. I finish changing, and look once more in the mirror. I turn from side to side to look at the finished product. Ginny Weasley does not look like Ginny Weasley. I shrug and leave the bathroom.

"Alright, Ginny, let's go." Felicia says, placing a hand on my back and leading me out of the door. "Steve and Lisa also want me to work them into your schedule tomorrow so I think I'm going to send a memo to Gwenog and tell her you're going to be late to practice in order to have it all work out."

"Do you know why they want a meeting?" I ask.

"Who knows with those two." She says under her breath. Now, that makes me chuckle.

"Ah, Ms. Weasley," A man with long, blonde hair says as walk in front of the cameras, "So this is just a standard photo shoot; just be you." He says, lifting the camera to his face. I stand there stiff, not really sure what to do.

He slowly drops the camera from his eye and gestures me to do something. I glance at Felicia and she does the same thing. I look at the photographer again and take a deep breath.

"Okay, how about we start simple and do the natural hand-on-hip pose, eh?" he says. I nod and put my left hand on my hip. "Okay, sink into your left hip—keep both your legs straight—oh, spread them a little wider—perfect." He takes a couple of pictures. "Look over to the right and laugh." He takes a couple more.

"Pardon?"

"Laugh. Like you're having a good time." I try. Not successful. "Come on, Ms. Weasley, laugh like you've just heard the funniest joke." He says in his foreign accent.

"I—"

"Alright, Ginny," Felicia says, "Why did the phoenix fly away? Because he just got burned." She laughs—actually, doubles over from her joke. That's what got me. The fact that she thinks her joke is so funny that she can't keep her balance. I start to giggle at her.

"Perfect, Ms. Weasley!" The photographer says before walking over to the side and picking up a broom and a Quaffle. "Take a seat on the ground," he says, placing the Quaffle and broom in a specific place. I sit down with one knee up and my arm draped over it.

He backs up and takes a few more photos. Then I'm told to do a few Quaffle tricks, like spinning it on my finger, throwing it from behind my back, and balancing it on my head. All perfectly photographed by Fabian. After that, I'm instructed to change. I change into a Harpies t-shirt and a leather jacket. Then into a draping, forest green, tank top and a black, pencil skirt. And then finally, I'm given the 'okay' to change back into my sweatpants and baggy t-shirt.

"Alright, Xavier is going to be waiting for you at the gym." Felicia says, with her clipboard in hand.

"Sorry, but I don't know where the gym is?"

"Oh, go to the Pitch, go through the main entrance, take your first right, then second left and then it's straight ahead." She says, not looking up from her scribbling quill.

I nod and furiously go through the directions in my head over and over. I grab my gym bag and head to the Pitch. Finally, I'm alone.

I walk down the cement block filled with the inhabitants and tourists of Holyhead. The streets are lined with broomstick shops, owl emporiums, and book stores. I walk with a purpose until I'm distracted with the sight of a Holyhead Harpies souvenir shop, about two blocks away from the main entrance of the Pitch.

In the front window there are lines of Harpy trading cards, action figures, and t-shirts. I smile at the doll-versions of the girls. Six total. A man walks up to the window from the inside and lazily puts out a cardboard sign that states, 'Ginny Weasley action figure coming soon! Preorder now!' He finishes setting up the sign and looks up.

His mouth drops open when we make eye contact. And that's my cue to leave. I nod with a small smile and look away. There's a large man about fifteen feet away from me. Watching me. Now, _that's _my cue to move it. I start walking once more. I clutch my wand in my pocket and glance over my shoulder, and he's following me.

I speed up a little and wait about ten seconds before glancing behind me once more. He's hot on my trail. I take the next turn right. It may be off the trail to the Pitch, but there's a man following me and I need to lose him.

I glance behind me once more, and there he is. That's it. I whip my wand out of my pocket and turn around, holding it up to his chin.

"Why are you following me?"

"Ms. Weasley." He starts.

"Who are you, and why are you following me?" I ask.

"My name is Tony, and I'm your security guard." He says, pulling out a badge from his back pocket.

"Security guard? I don't have a security guard." I say, not faltering.

"Yes, you do. Every Harpy has one or two. Right now, you only have one and that's me. You really think the association is going to let you walk to the Pitch alone?" I take this time to look at the badge he's holding up. It looks authorized.

I slowly drop my wand from the bottom of his chin.

"Well, you couldn't have introduced yourself to me? No 'hi, Ginny, I'm Tony, your bodyguard. Nice to meet you'? You just had to stalk me?" I rant, putting my wand in my back pocket.

"Hi, Ginny, I'm Tony, your bodyguard. Nice to meet you." He says, holding out a beefy hand to me. There's a joking smile on his face and I snort.

"Nice to meet you." I say, rolling my eyes.

"You darted out of the photo shoot so fast, I didn't get the chance to even say one word to you." He says. I take a chance to survey him. He's probably the tallest man I've ever seen, a large, beefy body, dark skin, and a stern face. Well, if anyone wanted to hurt me, I know I'm safe now.

"Let's just go to the Pitch." I say, walking once more. He now walks beside me.

"I don't think you're going to need another bodyguard." He says, looking straight ahead.

"Why do you say that?"

"With how you handled yourself just a second ago. I don't even think I'm needed."

**A/N: I'm going back and forth on changing the rating of this story from T to M just because of the future chapters. There won't be any lemons or smut just because that's not what I write but there will be darker themes and raunchy situations. So, if this changes know that it's not because there's some sex scene in it, more just things I wouldn't want fourth graders reading.**


	5. Chapter 5: Surprise Goodbye

I plop on my tattered couch and take a deep breath. Massaging the sore muscles that line my shoulder blades and spine, I evaluate my injuries. There's a sweet spot above my lower back, and a bruising sore by the bottom of my ribs. I close my eyes hoping maybe a power nap would help the pain. I hear the floo gate fire flare and open my eyes. Joan walks through the gate with a cheerful smile, looks like she's either used to this kind of training or she's a really good actress.

"Hey, Red." She says, plopping on the couch by my feet, "You've looked better."

"Wow, thanks." I reply, hanging my forearm over my eyes.

She steals one of my butterscotches from the bowl on my coffee table, "You act like you haven't had Quidditch training in years."

"I have had Quidditch training, but it wasn't every day and I didn't have to go to intense work outs before them."

She snorts at me and pops the hard candy into her mouth. It's been about two weeks since the last match. I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. I've been keeping in touch with Harry and my parents through letters and small, tired talks over the two-way mirror. A few days ago, I had a breakdown in front of Harry's little face in the mirror. He tried to soothe me in that awkward fashion he tends to possess, but it was no use, I told him I wanted to go home, I wanted to go back to the Burrow, and eat Mum's cooking. I told him I wasn't fit to be a professional Quidditch player but he stopped me there. And since then, I keep ringing his words over and over in my head. _Stop that, Ginny, you are more than fit to be a professional, just hang in there; once you're in the routine, it'll be a lot easier. _

Joan examines the walls and furniture around her, "The flat looks a lot better."

"Thanks, it feels good to know that I'm fully moved in." I reply whilst sitting up.

"Well, get up." Joan says, standing up from the couch. I listen confused as to why, "Practice starts in fifteen." She stretches her back and turns to me.

"Can you just tell Gwenog I'm dead?"

"Come on, Red, get up. If you cut practice, Gwenog cuts you." Joan pulls my arm until I'm standing up. I go into my bedroom and grab my gym bag from the floor. We leave through the front door, locking it behind us, and start down the hallway. I knock on Tony's door as we pass by his flat. Not long after, I hear Tony's stride behind us. We finally make it to the streets of Holyhead, leading the way to the Pitch.

* * *

We walk through the front doors of the Pitch.

"-and then he got mad at me, saying that I ruined anything that could have happened."

"Joan, you know, maybe he's right."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, and this is just how I understand it, but if a guy asks you on a date and you accept, it's kind of giving him the idea that you are interested in seeing him. Just him. Not that, sure, we're going on a date but I'm going to go have a one night stand the night before."

"See, it's like you're speaking another language."

"I just think that if you're going to go out with a man, you shouldn't see other men in a forty-eight hour window before or after the actual date."

"I just don't have any patience for that," She says, opening the door to the locker room, "yet again, you do have a pretty successful relationship." I roll my eyes and open up my locker door, "I would go to Marie about this but she'd probably tell Gwenog and have her put a chastity belt on me."

"Would she?"

"Probably; she was really mad when Cynthia announced she was pregnant. I think two girls in one year would be too much Gwenog to handle." I nod and finish strapping my boots. We both leave the locker room with about thirty seconds to spare. As soon as we step foot onto the grass field, Gwenog calls us up into the air. Looks like we were the last to show up to practice. We join the group in the air and see that everyone seems very serious. I guess we were all waiting to hear bad news from our captain.

"Alright, now that we have everyone." Gwenog starts, sharply glancing between both of us, "I have some special news to share. Brendan and I, well, we're engaged."

We all glance at each other, smiles plastered on our faces, stomachs doing backflips. I've, of course, never met this 'Brendan' fellow in my life, but I have heard many stories about him and Gwenog from the girls. According to Mia, Brendan and Gwenog got a little frisky at the Harpies season celebration last year. And by 'a little frisky,' I mean that they started to make out on a table in the middle of the bar.

"And, I'm sorry, but my heart won't be into practice today. So, I'm going to let you girls out two hours early, so I can go home and spend sometime with my fiancé." The other girls start to clap and cheer before Gwenog interrupts, "But, this doesn't mean we aren't going to work today, so don't think I'm going to let you slack off."

She flies up toward the hoops and motions us to follow her, the look on her face tells me that, sure, we're going to be dismissed early, but it's going to feel like we were held later.

* * *

"So, want to grab a bite of food?" Joan asks, as she throws her sweaty cloak into her gym bag.

"Depends, where?" I ask.

"I don't know, I was thinking chinese? Mia?"

"Chinese sounds fine. Red?"

"Yeah, I'm up for it." I zip my bag up and hoist it over my shoulder. "Let's go." We stop by the Harpies dormitories to drop our bags and let our security know where we're going. I expect I'll see Tony a couple tables away, trying to eat his tiny dinner with a pair of chopsticks.

We arrive at the chinese restaurant, where we're greeted by a woman at the door who takes out jackets and seats us at a little table in the corner of the restaurant. We order our food and finally get a chance to have a real conversation.

"So, Ginny, how tall is your boyfriend?" Mia asks, out of the blue.

I send her a confused look before answering, "Oh, I don't know; six feet maybe."

She nods, "Interesting." I take a sip of my water, trying to wonder why that matters. Awkward silence erupts over the small, restaurant table.

"Why does that matter?"

"Don't worry about it anymore. He's just not tall enough for me." I guess that should be relieving to know I won't have competition with Mia?

"Mia, how do you feel if a guy tells you the chances for a relationship with him is ruined because you had an one night stand the night before the first date?" Joan asks, playing with a straw wrapper.

"I think he's not wrong for thinking that."

Joan's face drops, "Really? Damn." I snort before taking a sip of water once more.

"Joan Penney, if your mother heard you use that language-"

"She'd drop dead." The two girls laugh while I send them a questioning look. Mia glances at Joan, before leaning forward toward me.

"Joan and her family had a fall out way back in the day." I glance over at Joan with furrowed eyebrows. I know I shouldn't pry but I can't help it.

"My parents and I don't see eye to eye." She says, placing her glass down on the napkin before continuing, "Growing up I was always the child they pushed aside. I had an older sister who was-and still is-the pride and joy of the family, and a younger brother who had a cute face and could win anyone over. They always said that I was going to grow up and be their little Healer. That I was going to study hard, and train even harder to become Head Healer at St. Mungo's and make them enough money to move into a new home. But, Kimberley beat me to it; she went down the Healer path leaving me to rethink my future."

I nod and continue listening.

"It was my seventh year at Hogwarts and I remember Professor Flitwick asked me what my career choice was. I had no idea. You see, Kimberley is that kind of sister that would hear your plans, carry them out on her own, and then accuse you of 'copying' when you confront her. Anyway, Flitwick told me to take another week and think about it, so, I immediately went to the Pitch and started to fly. And that's where I decided I wanted to go down the Quidditch path and try out for the Harpies."

"Okay, but why is that bad?" I ask, confused.

"Quidditch? In my parents' eyes, Quidditch is a sport for the unintelligent and the ignorant. Quidditch is a hobby, not a career and how dare I choose to go down that path. At first, I tried to work with them on the matter; I would invite them to my matches, but wouldn't pressure them to come. I wouldn't bring up my career at the dinner table. You know, all of those techniques to try and keep the peace. Until, the first game of the playoffs, that was the match I wanted them to come to, and when I looked up in the stands and they weren't there, I just snapped. Went to their house, let 'em have it," She takes a deep breath, "and haven't spoken to them since."

I gulp, feeling out of place and helpless, "I'm so sorry."

"It's been seven years; I'm over it now."

"Over it? How can you be 'over' family?" I ask, curiously.

"Well, at first, it's horrible. You feel lonely and insecure. Then you start to feel angry; thinking about all of the times you were there for them but, they weren't there for you. And then, little by little, the pain, the anger, the loneliness, they all start to numb and soon, you don't feel anything at all. Not towards the memories, not towards the people, not toward anything that connects you to the people you once called your family." She glances up at me and forces a smile, "Anyhow, I feel I do have a family now, a true family; the team, the company, and the fans will always be my family."

We take a moment of silence. I think of how that would feel; to know that you don't have a group of people behind you unconditionally. Sure, you have the team, and the company, and the fans, but those people aren't bound to you by blood. Make a wrong move and they can drop you at the spark of a wand. I realize how lucky I am to have those people in my life. People who will love me no matter what. Even when Bill gets too protective, Percy gets too pompous, George pulls immature jokes, Ron acts like a cry baby; I still know that they all would stick up for me in a fight. For Merlin's sake, Charlie would unleash a dragon on a person if it meant defending me. It's foreign to me that a family could consist of broken ties and damaged goods.

"Well, now that the mood is ruined," Mia starts, laughing at the silence, "Maybe we could start eating." She cranes her neck around to see if our food is on it's way to the table.

* * *

We laugh as we walk down the streets of Holyhead. I look behind my shoulder and see Tony shaking his head as we make a fool of ourselves with loud, obnoxious behavior. But it's all in good fun. I think I see him snort when I trip on a crack in the sidewalk. Thanks, Tony.

Finally, we make it to the Victorian building that is the Harpies' dormitories. Mia is the first to peel off of the threesome since her flat is on the second floor. Joan and I climb the flight of stairs, followed by Tony, until we reach the third floor, where Joan's flat resides. I hug her goodbye, and wait for Tony to catch up.

"Ginny, you're barmy, aren't you?" He jokes.

"I guess, I am." I start up the next flat of stairs, "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"No. Why did you lot have to choose chinese food? Why couldn't have been a place where I could eat my food with a fork; not a couple of toothpicks?"

"Tony, don't be dramatic, I'm sure you could have asked for a fork." We reach the landing of the fifth floor where both of our flats are located.

"You think I didn't try? No, she said that that's all they had." He walks me to my door, "At least now I know where I'm _not _going again." I shake my head and take out my keys. I unlock the door and bid him a goodnight. I take my jacket off and hang it on the coat rack in the dark. I sigh and navigate my way into my tiny kitchen and flick the muggle light switch on.

I throw my keys on the counter and stare at my dripping sink. _I need to get that fixed. _I move to the mail sitting on my counter and start sifting through; only looking for a letter from Harry.

But then, there's a movement in the darkness of my living room. I look up, squinting to see a figure in my flat. I slowly take out my wand and walk up to the muggle light switch for the living room.

With my wand on guard, I turn on the lights.

"You know, you really need to get your guard up."

I sigh in relief but then tense in excitement.

"Harry!" I squeal as I swoosh into his embrace. His arms wrap around my shoulders as mine squeeze his waist. "What are you doing here?" I pull back, most likely red faced.

He pushes a strand of hair out of my face, "What? A boyfriend can't visit his girl for the weekend?"

"He can; but, it was already planned that he would visit next weekend."

"Well, does it matter to her if he visits one week earlier?" His crooked grin flits upward.

"I guess not." I say before my smile drops and I punch him in the arm, "How dare you sneak up on me like that? Do you know how scared I was in that moment? I thought you were a crazed fan! Or some homeless person who broke into my flat! You're lucky I didn't scream for Tony before I turned on the lights!"

"I thought you were going to notice me straight away. You should check the apartment before you let your guard down; do you know it took you about five minutes before you noticed me? That's just enough time for me to put a bag over your head and knock you out."

I smirk at him and shake my head, "Sorry, I just came back from dinner with the girls and wasn't exactly thinking about self defense when I walked through the door to _my _flat. How did you get in here anyway?"

"I flooed Tony about three hours ago and he sent me over a key. I guess I got here just after you left."

"So, what? Have you just been sitting in the dark?" I take a seat on my couch, pulling him down next to me.

"No, I sat out on your balcony for a while."

I lean closer to him, "You're ridiculous, Potter."

"A little randy, are we?" He smirks, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Well, it has been two weeks since I've seen you." He shakes his head and meets his lips with mine. Let's just say, we kept ourselves busy for a while.

* * *

We lie in bed, snuggled in each other's embrace and I notice our conversation is at a stand still. I look up at his glazed eyes, hidden behind two, thin pieces of glass.

"What's on your mind?" I ask, running my hand through his hair. His eyes blink into focus and he presses his lips together. I keep our eyes locked, knowing this is a way to open him up.

"I didn't just come here to surprise you."

I sit up, keeping the blanket over my chest. He sits up as well.

"Then why _did_ you come?"

"Gin, today, we got word of a trip we are all required to take." I lean back against my headboard. "Well, not every auror, but every auror with three years or less experience on the job. We'll be training around the world, working with different auror departments and ministries to develop new techniques or something like that."

"Well, that's exciting, right?" He furrows his eyebrows at me. Maybe there's something I was supposed to realise?

"No, I don't think you understand; I'm leaving on Monday and-"

"It's only going to last a couple of weeks, right?"

He stares at me. I can't tell if it's with fear or disappointment or maybe even concern.

"Ginny, I'll be gone for six months." I feel the tiny muscles in my face let go. Our eyes stay locked in the dimly lit room. My eyelids flutter a couple of times as I take a deep breath.

"Well, you can write, right?" I pull my knees into my chest.

"I don't know. Apparently, the auror department takes this trip every three years to train the rookies and keep relations with the other ministries strong. I've asked a couple of guys at work what it's like and they said it can be like an official auror mission." I start playing with a loose thread on my duvet.

"So, what does this mean?"

"What does this mean?"

"Yeah, what does this mean? For us?" I finally catch his eyes.

"It means that we are going to spend the weekend together, and not think about it. And then we'll say goodbye on Sunday night. I'll wish you good luck in next week's match and I'll write to you as soon as I can." I shake my head, maybe out of annoyance, maybe out of ignorance.

"Well, how do I know you're not going to go to some Bohemian strip club and forget about me." I raise my eyebrows at him as he snorts.

"Ginny, does that really sound like my kind of scene?" I shrug. He slings an arm around my shoulders and shakes me slightly, "Come on, Gin. I came over this weekend so we can spend some time together and I don't want you to be loathing the goodbye when we still have," he squints at the clock on the wall, "forty-nine hours until I have to go back to London."

I glance at the clock and then back at him. He gives me a sympathetic smile, knowing I'm not happy with this news. I lean my head on his shoulder and wrap one of my arms around his abdomen.

"Well, did you pack some decent dress robes?"

"Why?"

"Because I have an event to go to tomorrow and you're now my date."

"Sorry, I didn't." I press my lips together and rest my chin on his shoulder.

"Looks like we're going to need to pick some out tomorrow morning."

"How can we get dress robes at such short notice?" He asks, pulling back to survey me.

I give him a mischievous smile, "I'm Ginny Bloody Weasley, that's how."

* * *

I wake up to the smell of pancakes on the stove. Smiling as I notice that he's gone from the bed, I swing my legs down and nestle my toes in the carpet. After a nice shower and a drawn out session of selecting an outfit, I leave my bedroom and am invited into the kitchen with a plate stacked high with steaming breakfast cakes, melted butter, and lightly dusted, powdered sugar. He's leaning against the counter, facing me, with a cup of hot coffee in his hand.

Harry takes this chance to tease me, of course, "Nice to see you could join me."

"Nice to see you could make yourself useful." I reply cheekily, gesturing to the pancakes on the counter.

"Well, of course. I've realised that after Monday, a well-cooked breakfast will be a thing from a far off dream, so I might as well indulge myself now." I cut myself a piece from the stack with the side of my fork.

"How about we not bring up the trip from now on." I say, wiping up some melted butter with another sliver of pancake. His smirk fades, and his eyes drop to the laminat.

"I really am sorry, Gin. I can't do anyt-"

"It's fine." I interrupt, not wanting to think about it, "thank you. For breakfast." He nods and flashes a warm smile.

He takes an awkward, deep breath, "So, about these dress robes-"

"Yeah, I'm going to floo my makeup artist, Alexis, in a couple of hours, and she'll contact wardrobe to borrow some. She's pretty efficient, and will make sure there here in less than an hour."

"Alright. What is this 'event' anyway, might I ask?"

I take a sip of my coffee and sigh, "It's an auction in honor of some owner of an art gallery who died a few summers ago. Apparently, they auction off art pieces every year, usually by up and coming artists. But, this year, they're auctioning off actual pieces from his gallery. They only invited so many people to come, for the most part, celebrities and people who're known to have a lot of money. Unfortunately, we're just going to be a waste of space, since neither of us is going to be buying anything."

"What makes you so sure?" He jokes.

"Harry, these art pieces can bid up into the millions."

"I was only joking." He says, hands up in surrender, "I wouldn't actually spend my whole vault just for a painting."

* * *

"Thank you, Alexis, you're a life saver, as usual." I say as she hands me the plastic-covered suit.

"Don't mention it. If it doesn't fit right, you can enlarge it or shrink it but please give it back to me in its original size." She says as she walks back to my fireplace.

"It was a pleasure meeting you." Harry says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"As to you, Mr. Potter." She replies before being engulfed in bright, green flames.

"Okay, go get dressed in the bathroom, and I'll go get my dress on." I shoo him out of the room.

* * *

"Ms. Weasley, over here!"

"Ginny, look this way!"

"One over here!"

"Ms. Weasley, Mr. Potter, right here!"

The photographers go to town, flashing photos of us on the red carpet outside the auction. I glance over at Harry, and notice he's completely uncomfortable. I squeeze his hand, reminding him he's here because of me, it's okay to feel uncomfortable. I look back at the reporters and smile again for the magazines, the newspapers, the press releases that all will have photos of me and my boyfriend from this night. The flashes die down and I take this opportunity to go up to the gates for a couple of interviews. Harry is close at my heels shifting nervously, and glancing around the red carpet.

I finish the interviews and wave again before walking to the end of the red carpet and to the front entrance of the banquet hall.

"You know, for saving the world and taking on these impossible feats, you act as though a few pictures are the end of you." I say as Harry escorts me with a hand on my waist.

"It's not that," He defends, "I just don't want to fuel the attention thats already on me."

"That's going to be hard." I say, taking a programme from a lady in the front hall, "You've put me in an awkward situation to find a new man to take me to these events. I wonder, maybe, Ethan Lawson would mind being my date? Ron would approve. He'd be able to bond with a Chudley Cannon Chaser." I send him a mischievous grin.

"Sure, you could. But, I think Mrs. Lawson would come after you with a pitch fork."

"That's right, he's married, isn't he?" I say, gracefully accepting a glass of champagne from one of the servers. "Well, who should I take to parties when you're out doing Merlin knows what?"

"Tony. Seamus. Neville. I may even be generous and allow Lucas Morris."

I snort into my bubbly, "You just want to vicariously live through me dating a player from Puddlemere United." He raises an eyebrow, "You are just like Ron at times."

"Come on, let's find a seat." He says, holding out a hand for me. He leads me over to one of the tables to the left of the banquet hall.

"Well, well, I do believe it is the one and only Harry Potter." I hear from behind me. Bracing myself for a very awkward conversation, I glance at Harry who's already looking at me with discomfort. We turn around simultaneously.

"Oliver!" Harry greets kindly once they meet eyes.

"Been a long time, Potter." Oliver Wood shakes his hand. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek. "Nice to see you, Ginny. I was just out for a pint with George and Lee and it seemed like most of the night was talking about your save for Holyhead last match."

"Why, thank you, Oliver. And how are you doing?" I ask, sipping some more of my champagne.

"I'm doing very well, thanks. Training the team hard. Was happy to finally be able to promote Katie from second string to first. She's excited to finally play full time again."

"Oh, is she?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, although, I'm a little nervous about her form. But, I'm sure she can conform. I must thank you, Harry, without you, she probably wouldn't be where she is today."

"I doubt that." Harry says, glancing at me.

"Yes, if anything she probably looks back at her seventh year, and remembers how awful it was to have this mad-man as a captain." I say, nudging Harry in the ribs.

"Obviously, Harry was mad in the right way. First House cup in a decade, thanks to him." Oliver claps Harry's shoulder.

"Well, I learned from the best." Harry joked.

"True. Mind if my date and I sit with you during the auction?"

"Not at all." Harry gestures to the table.

"Alright, let me get her."

Harry turns to me and sips his champagne.

"Maybe this event wasn't a total loss." I say, smirking at him.

"Meeting up with an old friend and then drinking very expensive champagne for free? I never said it was a loss in the slightest." I giggle, and peck his lips. He pulls out a seat for me before sitting in one for himself.

Oliver returns with his arm around a very familiar, petite blonde, "Harry, Ginny, I'm sure you know my girlfriend, Penelope."

"Of course." I say, gesturing to the seats open for Oliver and my brother's ex-girlfriend.

* * *

With a pop, we return into my living room. I immediately fall back on my couch, tearing the heels off of my feet. Harry takes a seat next to me watching me with a tired smile as I hassel with the many straps and buckles on the pinching shoes.

The second shoe comes off like a suction cup and I fall back against the cushions of the couch. I throw the shoe across the room and take a tired breath, "Much better."

We sit in silence for a little bit, not bothering with our attire, not worrying about how late it was, just sitting on my couch, enjoying the moment of relaxation.

"You know, this means we'll miss each other's birthdays." He breaks the silence.

I glance over at him, "Well, if I was given a heads up, I would have planned for a small celebration this weekend." He leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Should I just not go on this trip? I mean, it's really an inconvenience at the moment. Maybe Robards will allow me to-"

"Harry, no, I thought you said it was mandatory."

"Well, maybe I could pull out the 'Harry Potter' card this time?"

"Harry, we both know that if you don't go on this trip you won't be truly happy. I hate saying this, but I _do _want you to go. You'll have an amazing time, you'll learn so much, and I don't want you to miss out on this opportunity just because I'm having trouble with coping with my career."

"Are you sure?"

"Harry, even if you don't go, we still wouldn't see each other for weeks at a time. And I know you would hate yourself for using the 'I'm Harry Potter' card." He sighs and looks at me, with one of his unreadable expressions, "I want you to go, Harry."

"Come here." He says, gently placing a hand on my back. I swing my legs onto his lap and lean into his embrace. We watch the flames in the fireplace for a long while.

"I love you, Harry." I whisper.

"I love you, too." He says, twisting the Peridot ring on my finger.

"Maybe when we get older, life will be a lot less complicated."

"Hopefully," He replies, his cheek leaning into my hair. "Maybe we'll be able to move in together and not have to wait for a match weekend to be together."

"Somewhere like Grimmauld Place, or maybe somewhere between London and Holyhead." I say, staring at our clasped hands.

"And we'll spend everyday waking up next to one another and waiting for the other to come home from work."

"Until there's little ones running around, wearing us out," I smile, "driving us mad."

"I'd still wait for you every day, even if I'm too tired to function, I'll snooze on the couch until you come through the door." He says into my hair. I smile and look up at him.

"I will, too." I whisper. He leans down, meeting me halfway and softly landing a kiss on my lips.

"Always." I cup his face in my hands and pull him in again, running my hands through his wild hair. I feel his fingers tracing small circles on my open back and I feel fully at peace, with the man I love, unconditionally.


	6. Chapter 6: Dumbledore's Army

"-and that's our match for tonight, folks! Ending score; 590-300! Way to go, Harpies!"

We fly through the double, wooden doors after our victory lap around the Pitch. We pulled out another win, thank Merlin. Looks as though the season has started off on the right foot, with our win streak, two-zero; undefeated.

The team walks into the locker rooms satisfied with our performances in the air, well, almost satisfied. No amazing, perfect-timing saves on my part. Obviously, I can't expect to be the savior of every game, but when you get out onto the Pitch and see all the fans watching you, you assume they're expecting you to out-perform your last game. Today, wasn't one of those days.

I unstrap my pads and my boots, take a quick shower and a swig of water before leaving with the rest of the team to the autograph table. The first person to approach me is a little boy, his toothy grin makes me smile.

"Ginny, you were brilliant today!" He says with a slight lisp.

"Why, thank you." I reply, handing him back the sports magazine. "How old a-" I glance over at Steve and Lisa, who're staring at me disapprovingly, "Have a nice day." I amend, looking over his shoulder to the next fan.

_"__Ginny, you can't be conversing with a child for too long. You were holding up the line." Steve had reprimanded me, "Just give them your winning smile, tell them to buy your poster and move on to the next person." _

_ "__But, shouldn't I let a fan know that I care as much about them as they do me?"_

_ "__Let them assume you do. Most children just fantasize being in the presence of a Quidditch player, let alone talk to one. They won't even realise your lack of interest."_

_ "__I don't know. They'll look back and realise how rude I was."_

_ "__Don't worry about it, Ginny. You signing as many autographs as possible is more important than offending one child."_

"Ginny!" Steve's voice interrupts my thoughts, "Get to the autographs." He motions. I blink a few times before realise there's a person standing in front of me.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am." I grab the picture from her hand, "Who should I make it out to?"

* * *

They line us up at a long table on a raised platform, there is a group of reporters and press sitting in front of us, representing _Which Broomstick, Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet, Holyhead Flyer, Quidditch Girls _and so many other companies I didn't even know existed. Well, until now.

As soon as I take my seat, a rumble of voices and questions outbreak at the seven of us. All queries about today's match, the last match, the upcoming match, the playoffs, the upcoming Quidditch awards, things that I find completely frivolous in comparison to what's on my mind.

A reunion. I'll finally be together with my friends after a very long, two months. At the beginning of the match, I remember looking up at my family's box and not only seeing a collection of redheads, but a group of unrelated adults dressed in the dark green and gold of the Harpies. They have supported me from the beginning, actually, before the beginning. But, I'll never forget their celebration for me after I got my letter.

* * *

_"__-realised that it wasn't coming from my bed, but from the trunk under my bed."_

_ "__What was it?" I ask, disgust across my face._

_ "__Well, I wasn't sure at first, but then I realised that there is a compartment on one of the sides, and found my stash of Pumpkin Pasties from second year." Seamus shovels a spoonful of eggs into his mouth before continuing, "Never knew they could turn completely green; always expected they'd keep the orange color to 'em."_

_I glance down at my biscuit. Yeah, probably best that I don't eat it. _

_ "__You threw them away, right?" Hermione interrupts from beside me._

_Seamus sends her a look of complete and utter surprise, "Are you kidding me, 'Mione? Of course not; it's seventh year, the time to go out with a bang."_

_ "__What did you do, Seamus?" I ask, covering my face with my hands; preparing myself for the worst._

_ "__Revenge, darling, revenge. Waiting to hear how Mrs. Norris does after she receives a special birthday present."_

_There's a screech of an owl and I see Pigwigeon swoop down from a window in the Great Hall. He drops an envelope in front of me and I feel my stomach fall. I didn't know it would come so soon. I glance up at the teachers' table, Professor McGonagall sends me an encouraging smile; she must know what it is._

_ "__Ginny, what is it?" Neville asks from my left._

_I take a shaky breath and pick up the envelope, "It's from Holyhead." They all drop their forks and knives. Seamus and Dean lean forward to see what it says, "Wait, don't do that." I say, gesturing to their eagerness, "If I'm denied, I don't wan-"_

_ "__Just open it, already." Hermione interrupts me. _

_ "__Okay, okay," I say, taking one last breath and peeling open the front flap. I shakily pull out the folded piece of parchment, and with one last fleeting look to my friends I open up the folds._

_Immediately after reading the first line of the letter I drop it and bury my face in my hands. _

_ "__Oh, Ginny," Hermione comforts me, rubbing my back, "I'm so sorry." _

_ "__No, it can't be true." Seamus says, swiping the parchment from in front of my plate. He holds it up to read it and freezes, "Ginny! You made it!"_

_ "__What?" Hermione asks, tearing the letter away from him, "Ginny! You're on the team! First string!" I nod, keeping my face hidden._

_There are only a few times I find it appropriate to cry, when you lose someone, when you're heartbroken, and when something life alternating happens. You wouldn't believe how rare these moments in life are. Today, all three of these things happened. What? How? I lost someone; I lost the little voice in my head that told me I wasn't even that good. My heart broke; well, actually, my heart swelled so much, it basically detonated. And now my life has changed._

_I look up from my hands with a smile on my face, "How did this even happen? Am I even awake right now?" My eyes are watering. I refuse to admit I'm actually doing the 'c' word. _

_ "__Ginny, you're awake! It's completely real!" Neville says, pulling me in for a side hug. I look up and realise that Dean and Seamus aren't across from me anymore. I glance around and see them walking around the table. I stand up and give them a proper hug. Then, I turn and see Hermione, beaming to the point of tears. We smile at each other before flinging into each other's arms; there is only one other person I would want to see at this exact moment, but he's off, training. We squeeze in each other's embrace and rock back and forth. I think I hear her sniffle. _

_I open my eyes to the teachers' table, Professor McGonagall lifts up her cup in 'cheers'. I smile at her before closing my eyes and squeezing one more time and pulling back from my best friend. There is a clank of a knife against a glass cup and everyone's attention is moved to the front of the Great Hall._

_ "__Attention. I have an announcement to make. It seems as though there is a future Holyhead Harpy in the hall, who has just received her acceptance letter onto the team. Congratulations, Ms. Weasley!" McGonagall says, holding up her cup. The Great Hall erupts in applause. I'm sure I'm beet-red at the moment, but hey, let me have this one moment._

* * *

"There's my favorite Harpy!" Seamus yells as he runs toward me. I roll my eyes and drop my gym bag.

"There's my favorite Irishman!" I yell back, picking up speed. He picks me up as soon as we are in arms' reach, and spins me around. "Um, excuse me; I am in a very serious relationship at the moment, Mister." I laugh as he puts me down.

"Really? With who? Must be a nobody." He jokes, kissing my cheek.

"Congratulations, Ginny." Dean interrupts, giving me a hearty hug.

Before I can reply, two beefy hands land on Seamus and Dean's shoulders, "Oi, you two, grubby hands off my sister."

"Sorry, Ron, it's just been such a long time," Seamus grins as he puts his elbow on the top of my head and starts to lean in, causing my head to slip into his armpit.

"You are one of the most disgusting-no, you _are _the most disgusting person I know, Seamus Finnegan." I say, bending out from under his arm.

"And you're the tiniest."

"Hey, you can make fun of my hair or my clothes, but no one-_no one_-gets away with making fun of my size." I say, reaching up to poke the middle of his chest.

"Okay," he surrenders, rubbing the middle of his chest, "Shorty," he mumbles.

"Okay, you two, if you're done having your little playtime, let's go get a bite to eat?" Hermione suggests as she grabs Ron's hand to lead him out. Seamus and Dean both sling an arm around my shoulders. In all honesty, the weight of their limbs is crushing me, but I don't want to give them that as ammunition.

"So, have you heard from your boy toy?" Seamus asks as we leave through the front doors.

"Yeah, actually. He sent me a letter a few days ago, he's in Venezuela training with their new recruits. Apparently, he's learned a lot with their regime."

"He's allowed to tell you where he is?" Neville asks.

"For this location, yes, but when they go on an actual mission, he won't be able to."

"At least he gets to spend his birthday in the beautiful, sunny country of Venezuela," Seamus acts out dramatically.

"I'm not sure if he's still there, I mean, that was three days ago, he may have travelled since then and is spending his birthday today in some remote part of the North Pole."

"Um, Ginny, I think all of the North Pole is remote." Dean corrects me.

I roll my eyes, "Not all of it; hello, Santa Claus has a workshop up there."

"Ginny, don't take this personally when I say this, but you're a bit dim, aren't you?"

"I dunno, does a gnome have two legs?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's your answer." I smirk. Hermione turns around to roll her eyes at me, I giggle at her reaction. Hey, this is how my friends and I work.

We arrive at the pub and choose to sit in a booth in the back corner.

"I hate feeling as though the gang isn't complete." Seamus lets out, all of a sudden.

"Especially when it's his birthday today." Ron replies, taking a swig of his butterbeer.

Neville nods, "It's just unfortunate that he had to go so soon, especially since we didn't have Ginny the last time we all met up. Our team won't be complete until January."

There is a few seconds of silence before Seamus starts to chuckle, "Remember last month when we decided to have a little drinking contest?"

"I don't think it helped that Harry had already drunk a couple shots of fire whiskey before the contest. He was doomed to lose from the beginning."

"You guys had a drinking contest?" I ask, curiously.

"Oh, yeah, Harry was the second to lose right after Hermione."

"That's strange, he usually can hold his alcohol." I say aloud.

"No, I think he can, too, but I think he went into the contest a little tipsier than the rest of us." I take a sip of my butterbeer, thinking about why Harry would drink so eagerly.

"Well, out of all of us, Harry is the only one who deserves to drink like a fish after all he's done for us." Neville thinks aloud.

"Cheers to that." Ron agrees.

"Let's just hope he's having one hell of a birthday in whatever country he's in." Dean says, lifting up his mug.

"To Harry." Seamus says, lifting up his drink in 'cheers'.

"To Harry." Hermione repeats, with her glass of lemon water.

"To Harry." Ron, Dean, and Neville reiterate.

"Happy Birthday, Harry." I mumble under my breath.


	7. Chapter 7: The Other Ginny

I can't help but notice the crowds of people in front of the small shop front. Mostly children to young teens, all going mad over the small figure in the display window. I keep my distance; probably safer that way. Especially after the stories Steve and Lisa told me about professional Quidditch players being mobbed when out in public. Tony comes out from the coffee shop behind me with a mug of steamy for me. He hands the paper cup to me and takes a sip of his own.

"If they only knew the real thing is on the other side of the street." He says, tucking his hand in his pocket. I snort and glance up at him.

"But if they knew that, your job would become a lot more difficult, wouldn't it?"

"I don't think it can get any easier." I roll my eyes. According to Joan, Tony was sent all over Merlin's sweet garden looking for Cynthia time after time again. Cynthia apparently was always out to get herself in trouble. I'm sure Tony appreciates her replacement being a bit calmer than she was.

"Do you visit her?" I ask, curiously.

"Who?"

"Cynthia." I say, blowing on my coffee. "Did you two become close friends whilst you were her bodyguard?"

He let out a maniacal laugh, "Absolutely not. Cynthia and I never agreed on anything, and we definitely wouldn't now."

"Meaning?"

"Last time we ever spoke, she told me that she blamed me for getting knocked up. Said that I should have watched her better, and because I didn't, her career is ruined." He shakes his head, "Like I was supposed to walk into her bedroom and say 'Cynthia, no.'"

"Do you know what she does now?"

"She doesn't have a job if that's what you mean." He says, taking another sip of coffee, "Come on, you have an interview in an hour and a half and we don't have time to watch your fans go crazy over a doll version of you."

* * *

I walk into the little sound booth alone. I know Tony is right outside the door, but it feels like I'm completely alone. I glance around the room at the little microphones and sound boards. There are two leather chairs on either side of the table, both with a microphone to go with it. I lean back to see if anyone is approaching the room. Looks like the coast is clear.

I walk around the table to the host's side and sit in his chair. The sound board has little buttons with labels under each one. My eye immediately is attracted to the button labeled '_Drunk Cow_'.

Now I know what you're thinking; Ginny, you didn't push it, did you? How could I have not? With one more cautious glance, I press down on the _Drunk Cow _button and out pops the deranged sound of an elongated cow call. I giggle and look back down on the keyboard. The button above that is the '_Cackling Old Lady_' button. Of course, I hit that one too and an almost screeching, maniacal laugh overcomes the room. Now, I couldn't stop there. No one seemed to be coming.

I look down once again and see '_Angry man_'. A voice erupts yelling, in a southern, Scottish accent, "_Get out of here!_" I giggle at the man and hit the button one more time.

But the door to the room swings open and out comes a man in his mid thirties. In a very tired and annoyed voice, he says, "Don't touch that."

"Sorry, Sir." I say, getting out of his seat. He gestures me to sit in the seat on the other side of the table.

"Alright, Ms. Weasley, this is nothing special. Just act as though we're having a conversation and no one else is listening. Now, that being said, don't go swearing or babbling about anything inappropriate, or I'll have paperwork to deal with in the morning."

"Okay." I reply, taking a seat in my chair.

* * *

The countdown starts; _five, four, three, two…_

"Welcome, Wizarding UK, to five o'clock with Thomas and Lena. Lena, is out this week caring for a family member, so it looks as though today's show will have a solo host. Today's guest is Holyhead's very own, Ginny Weasley. How are you doing today, Ginny?"

"I'm doing pretty well, how about you?"

"Quite well, thanks. Now, Ginny, you're first name is really Ginevra, correct?"

"Um, yeah?"

"As in the spice, right?"

"I think so."

"So, that must mean you're pretty spicy, right?" He presses one of the buttons and a sound of drums overcomes the room. I guess that was supposed to be a joke? "But, no, we're not here to talk about your name, today, are we? Nope; we're here to promote your new action figure that was released just this morning. Am I correct?"

"Yeah." I reply, awkwardly. He pulls out a small, doll box that contains the _Limited Edition_ _Ginny Weasley Action Figure. _

"So, how do you like it; knowing that you are now, quite literally, in thousands of peoples' homes playing tea party and what not?"

"I don't know, honestly. I was just told a few weeks ago that the action figure is coming to stores and I haven't really had the time to actually think about it."

"Oh, so you don't have any creative control over your own action figure?"

"Not really, no. I didn't have any insight on what she looked like, or what she was wearing, or-"

"Okay, because I was about to say you don't look like her at all." He laughs, I guess I'm supposed to laugh along.

"Yeah, I think they use the same generic doll and change her hair and eye color, sometimes add freckles and then call her by a different name. I wasn't expecting it to be an exact replica." I joke.

"So, along with this action figure, there's another breaking story about you at the moment." He says, putting the doll and down and picking up a copy of _Witch Weekly. _"I want to hear it from you, is this true?"

I blush as I look at the photograph of him and I on the cover of the magazine.

"Oh, I dunno." I instigate, "We're just very close."

"Really? Because in this article it says you were holding hands, sending each other looks, and sitting close to each other during the entire auction."

I sigh, we had spoken about this topic way back in June. We decided that we wanted to keep our private life private. Not to confirm or deny the rumors. Of course, attending events and parties was okay as long as we didn't get too comfortable in front of all the watchful eyes, "All I'm going to say is, let's just keep the press guessing."

Thomas laughs and plays the _Angry Man _sound effect. Hopefully that's how Harry wants me to answer these kind of questions.

* * *

_11 August, 1999_

Clicking the door locked, I walk down the corridor of the Harpies' dormitories. I knock on Tony's door, letting him know I'm off to the Pitch and start making my way to the front entrance. I turn around and see that Tony isn't following me. Strange. Maybe he didn't hear my knock. I decide to just keep walking, speeding up to get to the Pitch faster. Something seems off today. Usually, Joan is waiting for me before she leaves for the Pitch. Today, that wasn't the case.

I pass by the little shop with my action figure on display, a sign next to it reads, _"Get your Ginny Weasley Action Figure today before they run out! Hurry up! She's selling out!" _I continue walking, apparently I've been selling out for the past week, you'd think they'd run out of merchandise by now. I speed up as I see the Pitch in the distance. I look around and see a ton of people glancing at me, sending me questioning looks.

_"__Don't acknowledge people on the streets. That shows a desperation for fame and appeal." _

Lisa's voice rings in my head. I keep my eyes glued to the ground until I finally make it to the front glass doors to the Pitch. I hear my heels clocking on the cement floors, no one is around. Have I missed some memo or something? Is it a Sunday and I'm going mad?

I push the door to the locker room open and notice the lights are out. Okay, maybe practice is cancelled. I point my wand to the lights and mutter '_Lumos'_.

"Happy birthday, Ginny!" I hear the team yell. I can't believe I forgot. How did I forget? It's my birthday today!

"Thanks!" I reply, dropping my gym bag.

Swaddling me in a hug, Joan asks, "Thought we had forgotten, did you?"

"Quite the contrary." I mutter.

"Well, after practice, we're taking you out. Gwen's given us permission to leave an hour earlier. Probably so she can go home and snog Brendan some more."

"Yes, well in the mean time, get dressed. I want you out on the field in ten minutes." Gwenog says, walking past me, "Happy birthday, Ginny."

"Thanks, Gwen."

* * *

"Reservation under 'Silverstone'." Marie smiles at the lady. The host nods and takes us back to a secluded booth in the very back of the bar.

"Hope you enjoy your time." She says in a nonchalant tone.

I open the menu, "You guys really didn't have to do this for me."

"Of course we did, Red." Joan says, opening to the alcohol page, "We Harpies will take any opportunity to party."

"Alcohol?" I question, looking at her menu. I glance around the table and lower my voice, "We're not supposed to be drinking."

Joan glances at the others and then lets out a snort, "Red, don't tell me you actually follow that rule?"

"Well, yes."

"Ginny, that makes you one out of a hundred. You can drink before a game or practice as long as you're smart about it."

"But what about the Alcohol and Drug Inspectors?"

"What about them? Chances are you'll get away with it and then if you don't, you have to have a really good excuse." Mia says from the other side of the booth.

"Like?"

"One time I used the 'someone spiked my drink' card." Cecilia suggests.

"Once I said that the healers recommended it to me as a stress reliever. And when Maurice questioned it, I asked my cousin to write me a referral." Marie adds.

I take a deep breath, no, I'm not falling into it. I refuse to drink tonight.

"Come on, Red, it's your birthday. Let loose a little." Joan nudges me.

I shake my head, "I dunno."

"Well, then you'll be in charge of dragging our drunk arses home."

* * *

I stumble into my apartment and immediately tear off my shoes. Maybe letting loose was the right choice. Tony didn't seem to pleased with me, probably because breaking the drinking rule is something Cynthia would have done. But, like Joan said, chances are nobody will know and Tony will keep his mouth shut; I'm sure of it.

I turn on the lights to the kitchen and go to the pile of mail on my counter. It always seems to appear when I'm out of the house. I sift through fan mail, bills, and notices until I get to an envelope with a familiar scribble of handwriting.

_Gin, _

_Happy birthday! Hope your day goes as amazingly as you are. Was lucky enough to get to a radio in time for your appearance, nice to hear your voice. _

_Love you,_

_H_

I smile at his scripture and decide to stick the note on my cold cabinet, right next to the other letters from my friends and family. He's been gone for almost a month, and to say it's been easy would be a lie. This is the second time I've heard from him, I've checked the two way mirror but his face never shows up. Maybe they confiscated it when they checked his bunk. Or maybe he just didn't take it. Whatever the reason, it's nice to finally get at least a peep from his end.

I take out a cheese stick from the cold cabinet and decide to go to sleep. The next part of getting away with breaking the no-alcohol rule, is to, at least, sober up before practice tomorrow.

* * *

_21 August, 1999_

_ "_And Welcome everyone to the Quidditch match coming from Holyhead. Today, we'll watch two undefeated teams go at it. First, the Holyhead Harpies, led by Gwenog Jones."

We fly out of the set of wooden doors around the field. I salute to my family in the family box and then line up in the middle of the field by the official.

"And their opponent, the Pride of Portree, led by Violet Young!" The fans dressed in purple go mad as their teams perform figure eights in the sky. Um, excuse me, it's a Quidditch match, not the Quidditch circus; you can tone it down. I glance over at Sarah who's rolling her eyes in a mocking fashion. Seems like our team is pretty confident about today's match.

A girl with long, blonde hair takes her position in front of me. She turns to yell at one of her team mates, her jersey says '_Gordon_'. So, this is the girl Gwen told me to look out for. Christina Gordon is her name, she's two years older than me, and has been a first string player on Pride of Portree for a whole year longer than I have. According to Gwenog, she has the same strengths as me and is about the same in rankings as me. She turns back around and makes eye contact with me.

She sends me a smile. Most people would say it is a genuine, warming smile, but to me, she might as well be telling me to go eat dirt. I send one right back at her.

"Will the captains take their positions in front of me?" The official's voice booms. Gwen and Violet both fly onto the grass and stand by the official. "Now, Gwenog Jones, Violet Young, please shake hands to ensure a good, clean game." The girls shake each other's hand and then fly back into the air, "Now, with my authority, I declare this match has begun!" The Quaffle flies high into the sky and the players scramble.

"210-200, Holyhead Harpies in the lead. Oh, wait, Weasley takes hold of the Quaffle, she weaves in and out of the crowd, but Gordon is hot on her tail! She flies around the hoops, she-oh that was a close one by the Bludger-she throws the Quaffle, and she scores! Ten points for Holyhead!"

Mia flies past me with an outstretched hand, I slap it back before turning to see where the Quaffle is now. Christina has it in her possession, I look toward Gwenog to see what her plan is she motions me to go after, I oblige. Trust me, I oblige.

"Christina has the Quaffle in hand, she's flying toward the hoops! Looks like she i-oh wait, looks like Barker sees the snitch! He's shooting toward the ball. Looks like Sarah Donaldson doesn't see it, though! She better look harder, looks like Barker is about to-and he caught it! A hundred and fifty points to Portree! Portree wins!"

I feel my stomach drop. We lost? We lost.

"Nice match, today. 350-220, in the Pride of Portree's favor. Better luck next time, Harpies! Thank you for coming out this afternoon folks, make sure you stop by the merchandise tables and pick up a souvenir!"

We fly into the wooden doors, I slam my broomstick onto the ground. How did this happen? We were in the lead!

We go into the locker room, everyone is angry; slamming things into their lockers, not saying a word to each other. It's obviously Sarah's fault we lost, I mean, maybe she should get her eyes checked; I could see the Snitch from where I was from.

"Practice. Monday. Starts eight o'clock sharp. Hope you enjoyed Ginny's birthday celebration because that's the last time I'm ever letting you girls out early." Gwenog says from the doorway. She turns on her heels and exits the room. It's done. We lost.

* * *

I walk up the stairs of the stands until I get to my family's box, they're all watching me with sad eyes.

"We're sorry, Ginbug." My dad says, swaddling me in a hug.

"We were so close." I mutter, before letting him go.

"I think you did wonderfully." Mum squeezes me tight.

"Of course you'd say that, Mum; you're my mother." She sends me a sympathetic smile.

"I may be your mother but I'm not lying to you."

"Do you still want to go out?" Bill asks, with Victoire on his hip. I reach out for the sleepy child and take her in my arms. She lays her head on my shoulder and wraps her pudgy arms around my neck.

I kiss her head and give her a tight squeeze, "No, I'd rather just head home. Maybe get some sleep." I hand the toddler back to her father.

"Are you sure?" Mum asks.

"Yeah, I'm sorry you had to come out all this way, but I'm just not up for it." I say, hugging the rest of my brothers and their girlfriends, or wives.

"Well, we love you, Gin. You did great; don't let anyone tell you otherwise." George mutters as I give him a fleeting hug. I pick up my gym bag and send an appreciative smile.

"Thanks. I'll see you guys later." I turn out of the box and toward the exit to the Pitch.

**A/N: I've been posting Witch Weekly article covers on my HP instagram account for every chapter. If you're interested in seeing them, my user name is The_Silver_Trio_ on instagram! Thank you for your support hopefully my quicker updates have been acceptable!**


	8. Chapter 8: Unsure

**A/N: So I'm sure you noticed that I changed the story's rating to M. It's not for smut or lemony chapters. I'm sorry but I don't write that kind of stuff. But, it's rated M for chapters like this, and trust me this is going to happen a lot more but please its the ending that pulls it all together, so if you can bare it, please stick around for the end. But, if it totally offends you, I understand. **

"Alright, take a seat on the bench, girls." Gwen says. She's not fuming but she's definitely stoic; unfriendly. "To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. But, it's not just because we lost; everyone made mistakes. Marie, what happened when the Quaffle just fell out of your hands and into Portree's?"

"I was a bit too eager and I squeezed the ball, literally, out of my grip."

"Well, because of that we lost a goal. That'd be ten points less we would have lost by." She looks over to someone else, "Joan, you kept hitting the Bludger a moment too late, almost taking out one of your own teammates."

"I know...I'm sorry." She says, looking down at her clasped hands.

Gwenog shakes her head and then takes a deep breath and turns to find her next victim, "Sarah, your mistake cost us the whole game." Sarah looks up, almost looking astonished, "How could you not have you eyes out for the Snitch? Why couldn't you just fly in the direction Barker was and then see it when you had gotten closer? I don't understand." Gwen's voice rising, "Sarah, that was a rookie mistake; after being on this team for five years, I expect you to be able to find the Snitch faster than the other team. Your position is the most important and you blew it."

"Why do you always pick on me?" Sarah finally snaps. I look over in her direction, "You're always telling me that I'm such a screw up, that I cost the Harpies the game. What about Mia? What about Cecilia? What about Ginny? Oh wait, I forgot, Ginny is perfect. Ginny is flawless." She stands up, face reddened, "Too bad you have such a connection to the girl that you can't even see with your own eyes the hundreds of mistakes and technical problems she has whenever she steps out on that field!"

I feel my temper rise in my throat, I don't mean to get in the middle of it but I stand up and, "Are you kidding me, Sarah? I made over half the goals throughout that match. What did you do? You had one job; find the bloody Snitch and you totally blew it!"

"That's nice, coming from someone who's been on the team for two months. Everyone is just waiting for you to screw up, you know that? Just wait until you start making the mistakes, and Gwen finds someone she likes better, you'll be basically swine!" She yells.

I jerk toward her but I feel two hands land on my shoulders and pull me back.

"Ginny, calm down," Joan turns me around to face her, "start a fight with Sarah and you'll be benched."

"Sarah, don't get all defensive when you know you're the one in the wrong. And don't go after my players, I'll judge their performances; not you. Who's wearing the captain's badge, Love?" Gwenog says, gesturing to the mark on her practice jersey, "And Ginny, don't overstep your boundaries, you're still new here. If anything you should be looking at Sarah for advice; she's your superior."

My mouth drops open. Are you kidding me? Ask Sarah for advice? No, thanks. She may be my superior but I'm a better Seeker than she is, and I don't even play that position.

"I don't want to hear another peep out of either of you. Get changed. Get on the Pitch. Obviously the team needs a lot more practice."

* * *

_23 August, 1999_

I wake up to the sound of a pounding on my door. That must mean Maurice Jolley, the Alcohol and Drug investigator, is paying me a little visit. Great, just how to start off the day. Don't worry, there's no alcohol in my system, but waking up at-what time is it-seven o'clock, isn't my cup of tea.

I pull on my robe and pad over to the door. I look through the peephole and see a head full of long, flowing, brunette hair. Wait, that's not Maurice. I quickly answer the door.

"Hope you slept well." Gwenog spits at me as she pushes her way inside my flat.

"I guess." I say, closing the door. She looks around my flat and then turns to me with a look of annoyance. "Gwen, please don't take this personally, but why are you here so early?"

"I wanted to tell you this way before practice starts so you can get your anger out while you're alone."

"Sorry?"

"You and Sarah obviously don't get along. Talking to Sarah before I came here, she told me you've butted heads from the beginning. I don't like to have conflict within my team-"

"Are you about to tell me that you're sacking me?" I freak out.

"No; not at all." She defends, "No, I've decided that you two need some one-on-one quality time. Bonding time, if you will. I expect you two to go out to a restaurant or maybe hang out at one of your flats before the next match."

"And if we don't?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"No, no, no, I'm just curious." I defend, quickly. Probably too quickly.

"Let's not find out." A pregnant pause fills the room, "Alright, I'm going to leave, you can throw things or trash your flat once I'm gone. See you in a few hours." She passes by me, I think for a second and turn around.

"Gwen," She looks back at me from my doorway, "I'll do it, for the team."

"It's not just for the team; it's for you two as well."

* * *

_5 September, 1999_

Today's the day. I've been dreading it since Sarah pasted the note on my front door.

_Ginny-_

_We're going to hang out at my flat at eight o'clock, on September fifth. _

_Sarah._

I take a deep breath before plucking up all my courage to knock on her front door. To say that we've been talking these past few days would be a total lie. Not a single word has been said to each other's face since the little confrontation in the locker room. Plus, it seemed that Gwen was trying to push us together; pairing us up for warm ups and stretching, making us pass the Quaffle to one another, or race each other to the Snitch.

The door swings open and Sarah's annoyed face shows itself. I press my lips together; not really that excited to see her either. She moves out of the doorway to let me in, I walk into a slightly messy flat filled with random paintings and pictures, all of which are of her.

I turn around and see her crossing her arms, eyes glued to the floor, "Look, I don't want to be here either, but can we, at least, try to make this visit a happy one?" She glances up at me and sighs.

"Here; we can sit in the living room." I follow her to the tiny room behind the second doorway.

She sits down on the left side of the couch, I sit down on the right. And we just sit. Sit in silence. Sometimes we glance at each other, but most of the time we keep to ourselves in the awkward gloom that fills the room.

"Look; I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for waving our loss in your face, and, well, blaming you for it when it was really something you couldn't control." I finally say in attempt to relieve the tension.

She locks eyes with me and clicks her tongue, "And I guess I'm sorry for all the things I said about you. I guess I got a little jealous of Gwenog's liking to you."

"I'm sorry, if I kne-"

"You'd tell Gwenog to stop liking you? It's really something I have against Gwen, not you. And, I guess I shouldn't blame you for something that you can't control."

"Do you want to just start over?" I ask.

The ends of her mouth twitch upward, "Start over." She repeats, reaching out a hand for me. I shake it and take a breath of relief.

"I guess we never got to get to know each other." I start.

"I don't think we ever gave it chance. We just instantly disagreed with everything."

"I mean, I wouldn't say we disagreed instantly; at least I didn't. I think I started to shut you out after the whole closet incident."

She shakes her head, "Well, that's in the past now, right?" I nod, "So, you went to Hogwarts?"

"I did; the best and worst years of my life all took place there."

"I went to Eton, a little less popular than Hogwarts but still was a very nice school."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope, just an only child. My parents didn't stay together that long after I was born. I don't really think they wanted to be married when they had their wedding. But, I'm just glad they're happy now. I guess, that's all that matters."

"Yeah." I agree.

"And you come from a fairly large family?"

"Six brothers; nine mouths to feed in all. Growing up we were always tight on money, but, you know, I wouldn't have it any other way. My family is the most important group in my life."

"Surpassing Harry?" She jokes. I hesitate for a moment before nodding.

"I mean, I love him but nothing can supercede family. If he told me it was him or my family, he'd be out of the picture faster than he can apparate. But, he would never do that, he's too close to my family."

"I wish I had a guy like that." Sarah says, patting down her curly hair.

"You'll find one." I smile at her.

"Hopefully. Any single aurors working with Harry?" She jokes. I laugh along.

"I dunno; but as soon as he gets back I can ask if you'd like." She shakes her head.

"I'm good, honestly."

I notice that her knee starts to bounce a little. Maybe it's just a habit she does when she's sitting. Sometimes when Bill is a little energetic and he's sitting, he'll start to click his tongue until someone says something.

"I don't want to sound deluded or anything but I think we're going to win the next match. I mean, I feel as though all of us are going to be all in after what happened last match and I just feel as though It's going to be a really tight game against Puddlemere, but it will end in our favor if that makes sense." She says, randomly out of the silence.

"I'm extremely nervous." I say, disagreeing with her.

"Why?"

"Well, I know two people on that team, Oliver Wood was my brothers' friend, he played on the team with my brother Charlie, and then was the captain of Gryffindor when my twin brothers were playing. And Katie Bell was my teammate in my fifth year. I just feel like I need to beat them to prove myself, but, at the same time, I feel guilty for wanting my friends to lose."

"Makes sense." She nods, "Well, did you know I had a fling with Kris Abbes from the Appleby Arrows?"

"No, but what does tha-"

"I had a problem with playing against him, and, of course, that season we went against him twice. But, Gwen told me to blur out his face. Sounds a lot easier than it is, I know, but if you just cut your ties to them while on the field, it's easier to go against them. You should use that, especially since Katie and you will be going head to head."

I nod, might as well try it. What do I have to lose from that except the match? Which, secretly, I think we're going to lose either way. Puddlemere is known to be good, they've been good for the past decade. I think that's why they were Harry's favorite team...well, until he was converted to the Harpies. I take credit for that.

I look back over to Sarah, and she's staring at the coffee table. She seems zoned out, almost distracted or desperate by whatever is inside the drawers.

"Um, Ginny, I know we just made amends, but do you mind if I ask you for a favor?" I furrow my eyebrows, what is she going to ask me to do? And why is it making me nervous?

"Sure."

"I really need to smoke at the moment. But, I can't do it if you're going to go blab. It's been two days and I'm dying." I nod, there's nothing wrong with smoking cigarettes; they're not on the 'no-no list' on the contract.

"Go right ahead." I answer, gesturing to the drawer that has been the focus of her attention for the past ten minutes. She seems relieved as she pounces for the drawer pulling out a little, plastic bag filled with short, cigarette-looking rolls. She pulls the tabs of the plastic bag open and a horrible stench lifts from the bag. I immediately know what this is, "Sarah, is that-"

"Yes," She says, pulling one out and lighting it with her wand. She puffs a few times before a billow of smoke is released from her mouth. She double glances my way, "What? You want some?"

"No." I say, firmly.

She studies me for a second and then lets out a chortle, "I forgot. You're the real goody-goody of the team. How did I forget? First, you were hesitant to drink on your birthday and now you're appalled at me smoking a little marijuana."

"Well, yeah, it's directly stated in our contracts that we can be suspended for doing that kind of stuff."

"But, you still drank on your birthday." I purse my lips; that is true. I did break at that moment.

"Why would you risk your job just to do...well, this?"

"You've obviously never have tried it, have you?" I immediately shake my head. The stench is disgusting and I feel the bile rising in my throat. I think I'm suffocating. I feel like I'm about to be poisoned just by the fumes coming from this girl's mouth.

"Maybe I should leave." I say aloud, pressing a hand to my forehead.

"Oh, come on, Red. Just try it. One puff and I won't bother you anymore." She says, grabbing my wrists.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to go down that path."

"Oh, and you're supposed to be the bad girl of the group?" She taunts me. I glance down at her blunt. It's probably the most unattractive thing I've seen a person do. She sends me a teasing look before blowing some smoke my direction. I cough and fan the air around me.

"Was that really necessary?" I cough out. I can't help but breathe in the toxic mist. It's so gross, and I can't get away from it.

"Just try it. Once." She says, holding out the little, paper roll, "Or are you too good to?"

"I never said that."

"Too classy to? Better than it? Why would you judge someone who does this if you don't even know what it's like?"

"It's not that. I'm not judging you, it's just that I'm not into that kind of scene."

"How do you know you're not into this 'scene'?" She's looking at me in a humorous way, like she finds it cute that I don't feel comfortable with this.

"Because I just-I just know."

"That's a great explanation." She puffs out another serving of toxins. I glance down at it. Maybe if I do it just once, I'll know what it's like, I'll prove to her that I don't like that kind of scene, and she'll stop pestering me. "Trust me, it feels good once you meet the best part."

I stand and purse my lips. I really don't want to do this. But, you know that alter-ego, that other voice that nags at your mind in situations like this? That little demon that pops up on your shoulder and tries to lead you down the rebellious path whilst the saint pops up on your other leading you the opposite way? Have you, just once, wanted to feed that little, demon-like conscious? Just once let your bad self take over and just be a little crazy?

It's one of those moments. I mean, no one will know. Just Sarah, and if she turns me in, I could easily do the same thing to her. She's the one who smokes, apparently, within a two day span. I definitely wouldn't be as bad as her.

But at the same time, what if I do like it? What if this scene becomes my scene? What would my parents think? What would Hermione say? They all would be appalled. Yet, on the contrary, I remember Charlie saying something to Bill about being on a high, I remember his voice saying that it's good to experiment at least once.

Sarah holds out the lit blunt toward me, "Once." She says quietly. I stare at it for a few moments.

"Once." I say, taking my seat again. She hands it to me and I stare at the item in between my fingers, "Um, how do I do this?"

She rolls her eyes, "You've really never done this before?" She sounds surprised. I shake my head. Honestly, I haven't. She explains to me how to hold it and what to do. I gulp, I start to have cold feet.

"I don't think I shou-"

"Oh, just do it." She snaps. I close my eyes and lift the roll to my lips. _It's just this once, _I think to myself, o_ne puff and that's it, for the rest of your life_. I suck on the end of the blunt and hold it at the back of my throat. It tastes funny. Really, there's no way to describe it. I blow out the smoke when I can't handle the flavor anymore. I cough. A lot. And when I say I cough a lot, I mean I can't catch my breath. I shove the roll back into her hand and cover my mouth and shake my head.

"Never doing that again." I say, licking my tongue on the inside of my shirt to rid the after taste.

She shrugs, "Suit yourself."

* * *

I close my door and immediately strip off my clothing. That was foul. I'm disgusted with myself. How did I let temptation take over? I take my clothes and throw them immediately into the wash. I start the charm and basically run into my bathroom to take a shower. I can't say how many times I wash my body and hair. But it all to make sure you can't smell me. After I finish my shower, I change into my pajamas and take a seat on my living room couch. What if the smell was brought into my flat when I walked in? What if my flat smells like it now? I jump up and go to my cabinet, there are different potion mists that line the cabinet. I pull out the one labelled '_lavender scent_' and start to spray it around my flat.

I finish off the bottle and throw it into my trash. But, I still have traces of it in me. I go to my cold cabinet and take out the pitcher of water. Maybe I can flush it out? I pour myself a glass and gulp it down empty and then another.

Hours later, I'm waterlogged, I need to use the restroom, and I'm tired. I guess letting nature run its course and sleeping the rest of it off is all I can do now. And if I get caught, it's my fault. I let my weakness overcome me. Why am I so unsure of myself?

**A/N: I'm sure most of you noticed I changed my story from rated T to rated M, mainly for this chapter and chapters like this to come. I was thinking about it earlier, and I decided drug references and mature themes a long those lines (not talking sex here), aren't suited for just anyone to read. So, I'm sorry if this chapter offended you in any way but its for plot and character building, I've said this before, this story is going to spiral but I want to reiterate I am a full blown Hinny shipper, so if you ever have any doubts, believe me, I love Harry and Ginny together, trust me!**

**Also, if you'd like to see Witch Weekly covers and have an instagram, I've been doing an edit for each chapter on my HP fan account, you can check it out without following me if you'd like at The_Silver_Trio_ on instagram!**


	9. Chapter 9: Boyfriend

"And Katie Bell scores! The score is now 200-120, Puddlemere United!"

I look up to Gwenog, she doesn't seem to happy. I knew this was going to happen; I knew we were going to lose. Oliver Wood just has an amazing team and there's nothing we can do to throw them off.

Marie passes the Quaffle to me. I duck and a Bludger flies over my head. Katie and another one of Puddlemere's chasers come up on either side of me. I speed up toward Oliver, who's protecting the middle hoop.

I try to blur his face; I need to make this goal. I throw the Quaffle in the air and punch it over to the lower left hoop. He flies in the way, catching it and throwing it to one of his Chasers. Damn it. But before I could catch up to Puddlemere, the crowd starts to go wild.

"And Hill sees the Snitch!" I search for Sarah, who's hot on her tail. That's good, right? At least she's not just sitting in the air, looking around like a dimbo. The two girls level up; flying next to each other, hands both outstretched for the small, golden ball.

I see Sarah bumping into Hill to throw her off her path. They speed toward the Snitch, faster and faster and faster and faster, I think they're going to lose control of their brooms. Gwenog scores another goal through the middle hoop; The score's now 200-130. I glance over at the Seekers, still racing around the stadium. The pressure hangs on Sarah's shoulders and I know she feels it too. I catch the flying Quaffle and speed up to Oliver, I throw it to Marie and chance a glance at the Beaters.

Joan seems to be worried about something. I look over to where she's focused on, the Beater on Puddlemere was going after a Bludger. He swings his bat full force, knocking the ball off of its straight path. It picked up speed, heading right toward me. I jerk out of the way and I swear I feel the Bludger graze my skin. I turn my head to see where it's heading to-_oh no_.

Time seems to freeze. I hear a loud sound and a yelp of pain immediately after it. I double take toward the sound, Sarah is off of her broom, on the ground. Luckily, her drop was only about ten feet, but she's clutching her side, her face bright red.

"And Maryam Hill has caught the Snitch!" The announcer's voice booms, "Puddlemere wins!"

We all fly down to Sarah, lying and rocking in pain on the sod. She has tears streaming down her face and is squeezing her side to the point where her knuckles are white.

"Sarah, what hurts?" Gwenog asks, kneeling down beside her.

"My ribs!" She whimpers out. Her breathing is rapid and unsteady. Her hand starts to shake against her side.

"Marie, see if a medic is heading down this way." Gwen barks, "Sarah, you need to get your hands off of your side." She refuses, and starts shake in pain.

"Hold my hand." I say, reaching out for her. Her lip trembles and she grasps my palm. Okay, when I told her to hold my hand, I didn't mean to break it. She not only squeezes my hand painfully, she starts to grind my knuckles together. I'm starting to feel the pain in her ribs in my hand.

"He's on his way." Marie runs back toward us. A man dressed in healer robes jogs toward us.

"Give me room. Give me room." The man yells as he sets a square bag on the ground.

Everyone moves out of the way, well, except me, as I'm painfully, attached to Sarah's hand. He tears Sarah's jersey up to reveal a purpling bruise on her side. It stretches from her hip bone to the middle of her rib cage. He places two fingers in the middle of the bruising flesh and rubs small circles around, surveying the damage.

"I can feel the break in your ribs from the outside. That's not a good sign. We're going to need to take you in. There's too much damage to fix anything here, and I don't want to mess up anything else that could be hurt." He motions to a group of people in similar attire that are walking across the field. They put together a stretcher and lay it next to Sarah.

"Ms. Donaldson, try and stay as still as possible." She nods, taking as deep of breath as she can. The six healers surround her body, and as quickly and swiftly as they try, they move her onto the stretcher. It slowly rises up and Sarah's grip on my hand tightens. The healers all surround the bag and start speaking in medical jargon to one another.

Gwen sends the girls to go to the locker room, "Wait, girls, you have to ask Joseph for the key!" She yells to the retreating girls. But they don't hear her. "Girls!" She barks louder, "Girls! I'll be right back." She leaves us alone to tell the team who has the key.

"Ginny," Sarah painfully whispers, "I did it; two nights ago." I furrow my eyebrows at her.

"What?"

"You know..._it._" I look around the field for an answer.

"Sarah, what are you talking about?"

I can see she's getting frustrated, "I visited _Mary _two nights ago." I realise what she means and understanding flows on my face, "What if they find out?" She asks, scared.

"Don't worry, you'll be okay. They won't find out."

"Find out what?" Gwenog asks as she approaches us. We glance at each other to come up with an excuse. Her face turns from wonder to an unreadable expression, "Sarah Donaldson, you're not pregnant are you?"

"What? No!" She wheezes out, "No, I-er-I didn't want them to know that...well, I haven't been eating that well. I'm not as...healthy as I should be at the moment."

"What like your diet is messed up?"

"Kind of." I take a deep breath and catch her eyes. Nice save. Too nice. Maybe too natural. I realise I should, maybe, keep her at an arm's length.

The healer turns back from the group, "Portkey is all set." He sets the bag at the end of the stretcher and straps it healer grabs the handle of the bag and looks back to Sarah, "Hold on, we'll be at Holyhead Medical in a few seconds."

The two disappear in thin air as the portkey takes them away to the hospital.

"I'm better go get changed and meet them there." Gwenog says, placing a hand on my shoulder. She starts to walk to the doors with a spring in her step.

"Gwen," I burst out. She turns to face me, "that Bludger; it was heading straight for me and I ducked."

"Red, it's okay. I'm not angry with you." She says, putting her hand back on my shoulder.

"But, if it hit me, Sarah could have caught the Snitch and we would have won."

She shakes her head, "Ginny, you're overthinking it. I wouldn't want you to get injured if it meant we'd win. And I don't blame you, or anyone for our loss. The odds were just against us." She starts to walk to the doors again before pausing and turning back to me, "But, that doesn't mean I'm not going to hold you girls back for more training this week." Gwen send me another smile before leaving the field. I smile back and then realise what she said.

* * *

"Hey, Gin." George says as I enter the family box.

"Hey." I say, giving him a side hug.

"How bad of shape is Sarah?"

"I don't know, but I'm guessing pretty bad. The medic could feel her broken ribs just by touching them."

Charlie shakes his head, "But that doesn't mean anything; sometimes you can feel a broken bone like that depending on how it's fractured."

"Okay, Healer Charlie." George jokes as he ruffles his brother's hair.

"How are you feeling though? That Bludger was close to hitting you." Bill asks from the seat with Victoire bouncing on his knee.

"I'm fine. Just a little disappointed that we lost again." I take a seat in one of the open chairs and rub the tension out of my throwing arm.

"Well, you can't expect to win every game. Plus, Puddlemere is one of the best teams in the league."

"I know but-" And I hear the sound of a toddler around the corner. I look over and out crawls a young boy with blue hair. "Teddy!" I reach out for the little boy who stands up and stumbles over to me.

"We wanted to surprise you." Mum smiles to me, "Andromeda is letting him stay with us for the weekend."

I kiss the little boy on the cheek, "I've missed you, Teddy Bear!" I say, excitedly. He looks over at me and his hair turns from a green to a pink. "Come on, Ted, last time I saw you, you were talking. Don't you have something to say to me?"

Red rises in his cheeks and he shakes his head. Is he blushing?

"Looks like someone is fostering a crush." Bill laughs. I look back to Teddy who's smiling to the ground.

"Is that true, Teddy?" I laugh, bouncing him a little. He turns his head away from me and I kiss his hair, "Well, I may have to make a few arrangements but I'm free tomorrow. Pick me up at eight?"

He turns back to me and wraps his arms around me.

"Is that a yes?" My mum asks.

"Ted, do you want to be my boyfriend?" I joke. His hair turns a bright red color. I'm guessing that's a yes. I know, I know, I was there to change his nappies, I was there to see his first tooth, and his first steps. And when he's older, he may be calling me 'mum'. But, for now, playing along would be harmless. I'm sure he'll grow out of the little crush faster than he grew into it.

"So, are we going to spend time as a family today or are you going to blow us off again?" Ron jokes, but I'm pretty sure that there's an inkling of seriousness in his comment.

"Well, I'm not really in the mood to go out to a restaurant with all the fans being around here." I answer, "But, you all can come over to my flat? You've never been there before, so I can show you the place and introduce you to Tony."

"Tony?"

"Oh, right, Tony's my bodyguard. He's pretty cool; keeps to himself, escorts me from the flat to the Pitch and what not."

"I'm fine with that, as long as we're not bombarding." My dad says, a hand resting on my mother's waist.

"You're not bombarding, Dad; you're family." I stand up with Teddy in my arms. I go for my gym bag but George picks it up and slings in on his shoulder.

"You don't need to carry this and Teddy." He justifies. I lead them out of the Pitch and down the block to our dormitories. I glance around and see that Tony's not too far behind, walking at a decent pace.

We arrive at the Victorian building after walking a few blocks. Tony approaches my family and I in an awkward fashion.

"Oh, hey, Tony." I greet, "This is Tony. Tony, this is my family."

"Hello, Tony. Arthur Weasley." My dad introduces as he shakes my bodyguard's hand.

"Of course, Minister."

"Deputy Minister." My dad corrects.

"There's really no difference in my eyes." He replies before turning to me, "Ginny, I'm going to go up to my flat and take a quick nap, let me know if you need anything."

"Alright, bye, Tony." I say, following him into the building; family close behind.

I lead the group of redheads to the third floor where my flat is located. I unlock the door and lead them inside.

"Nice place." Ron says, surveying the room, "Did Harry put up all the protective charms?"

I roll my eyes at my brother's sudden similarity to his best friend, "Yeah. You guys can sit where ever you'd like."

I take a seat on the ground and set Teddy on my lap. He nestles back into my arms; he's such a sweet boy.

My mum smiles at me and pulls out a children's book, "I brought this in case he threw a tantrum but looks like he would enjoy to hear it now; if you want to read it to him."

I smile at my mother and take the book from her. Teddy seems to perk up when he sees the yellow children's book.

* * *

"Here," I hand my mother the sleeping toddler.

"You'll be okay for the next few weeks?" She asks with a saddened expression.

"Yeah, Mum; I'll be fine. Probably going to be extremely busy anyway, so I don't think I'll even realise how much time goes by."

"Have you heard from Harry?"

"Yeah, he's in Australia right now." I smile, "I think he's really enjoying it."

"That's nice," She rocks the little boy, "Alright, we have to leave to get back to Catchpole. We love you, Ginny." She gives me a side hug to compensate for the child in her arms.

"I love you too, Mum. Bye, Dad." I hug my father.

"Bye, Baby Girl. You better write; I don't like these sparse letters."

"I promise, Dad." I smile. I plant a kiss on Teddy's sleeping cheek and watch as my parents leave through the front doors of the building. All my brothers had left a few hours ago, leaving me time to catch up with my folks. I rub my arms to warm up, it's chilly tonight for it to be early September.

I retire up to my flat, locking the door behind me.


	10. Chapter 10: Quidditch Girls

_16 October, 1999_

"_Will the Harpies ever pull out a _real _win again? That's what witches and wizards from around the world question. The Harpies pulled out a win on June 26th, against the Appleby Arrows. People from everywhere rejoiced to see the all-girls team succeed. Most can say that the first win of the season was thanks to the rookie Chaser, Ginevra Weasley, also known as 'Ginny Weasley'. And to justify that win, Holyhead triumphed once again over Wimbourne's very own Wasps on July 31st. But, the season turned sour as the Harpies had an embarrassing loss to the Pride of Portree on August 21st. It seemed as though the team had absolutely no technique, and were going at it like a children's league. A few weeks later on September 18th, the Harpies went head to head against Puddlemere United, which ended in a devastating loss and an injured player, completing the first quarter of games in a two to two win-lose streak. The next Quidditch match against the Chudley Cannons on September 25th, resulted in a blow out of a win, which was expected as the Chudley Cannons enter their thirteenth year of uncontrollable defeats. Now, the real question of the matter is; were the Harpies just lucky? Or have they struck gold and don't know how to refine it just yet. At the moment, they have a three to two win-lose streak and are fostering a reserve Seeker to make up for their injured player, Sarah Donaldson who's recovering from three fractured ribs and a punctured spleen."_

I set the copy of _Holyhead Flyer _on my kitchen counter. We aren't lucky, we just went against two of the best Quidditch teams in the league, back to back. I don't think there has been one season in the past decade that neither Puddlemere United nor Pride of Portree has made it to at least the semi-finals.

But, you know what, we have a match against the Tornadoes next Saturday, and we'll prove that it isn't luck. It's just talent and fair games. Plus, Sarah will be playing by then. But, for now, it's my day off and I just need to relax.

I pour myself a coffee and rucksack through the mail for the day. It's mostly fan and junk mail. I throw out the junk and start opening, and scanning through the decorated postcards and letters from people all over the world. I've been pretty good with answering my fans so far. But, after every match, the mail count grows and grows, I know, soon, I won't be able to answer all of them.

Finishing off with the letters, I wrap them in a rubber band and put them in the basket outside my flat. That's where I was told to put all fan mail responses and a specific mailman will come around to pick them up. Now, what to do? My flat is so empty. I mean, it's full of furniture and pictures, but it's empty. I wish I had Arnold here with me. But, I left him at the Burrow; not knowing how hectic my schedule here would be. I need to shoot my mom a letter asking her to bring him with her the next visit. I could use the company.

I have an urge to do something. What; I'm not sure. I've had this feeling for the past few days-or has it been weeks? Maybe I'm craving food? No, I just ate breakfast. But, that doesn't mean that I don't want something else to eat. But, if even if I do want something else, I don't need extra food at the moment.

Yet, this feeling is so strong. So annoying. I need to fix it now. I'm not even sure if its food related. Maybe I have some pent up energy, like I need to go for a jog or something. Maybe I could get one of the girls to come with me. Or maybe even Tony. I don't think Tony even runs but it's worth a shot. Plus, I believe the last thing the girls want to do is work out on the day they are let off from working out.

I change into a pair of grey gym shorts and a baggy sweatshirt. For being early October, the climate is unusually windy, sending chills up my arms when I walk to the Pitch. I knock on Tony's door and take a step back. The door swings open and a large, beefy man appears with an annoyed face.

"Ginny, I thought it was your day off. You don't need to be at the Pitch this morning."

"No, but I was wondering if you'd like to go for a jog with me?" I ask. He glances over his shoulder into his flat and then holds up a finger to say 'one moment, please.'

I lean up against the pale, blue walls of the corridor. It seems like Tony is taking a very long time to get ready for a jog. But, it's not like he can't go. He's my security, and I could be ambushed by commoners on the streets. That's what happened to Margaret Chappell when she was still playing Quidditch and she filed a huge lawsuit against the International Quidditch League for not providing proper protection. Although, I don't remember seeing that in the papers.

The door swings back open and I keep my eyes on my fingernails, "You know, Tony-" I glance up at my security-wait, that's not Tony.

A petite girl with tanned skin and dark hair carefully walks out with her cheeks pinked. Tony appears behind her.

"Bye, Ellie." He says, kissed her on lips.

"Bye, Anthony." She says before giving me an acknowledging nod and walking down the corridor.

"Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't know you had a guest over. If you want to stay he-"

"Ginny, its fine. She had to leave in a few minutes, anyway."

"Okay?" I say, as we start to walk down the hallway as well, "Who was that? If you don't mind me asking."

"My girlfriend. We've been dating for five years now. She lives about thirty kilometers away, so we don't get to see each other that often." He answers. We turn a corner and start walking down the stairwell.

"Really? Well, go catch her, then." I say, lightly pushing him, "I don't want to impede on your visit."

"Ginny, you really weren't. When I say she was just about to leave, I mean she was just about to leave. She works for her father's shop in her hometown, her shift starts in about two hours." I nod, not really accepting it.

We make it outside and start running the opposite direction of the Pitch.

"So, how did you guys meet?"

"At her father's shop, actually. I went in there because I was heading to a family reunion, and I was lost. I took the wrong train and I didn't know where I was exactly. It's a muggle town and I assumed she was one too. But, immediately, she recognized me from the papers for all the pictures of me and Cynthia. She's a halfblood. Her father is a muggle and mum's a witch. Unfortunately, her mother left her and her father when she was around eight years old. Her mother didn't want him to know she was a witch, and she couldn't take it anymore."

"But, why would she leave if her daughter could have been a witch as well?"

"Supposedly, Ellie hadn't shown any signs yet, she thought and maybe even hoped that Ellie didn't inherit that gene and she could make her escape from that life with a clean cut. But, a few months after she left, Ellie levitated the pot on the stove while her father was cooking. He had no idea what had happened but he went mad over it. Ellie was scared, too. According to her, he never brought it up but she would sneak out of her room at night and find little things or signals that what happened had bothered him."

"Such as?"

"Books, on the myths of magic, demons, possession, paranormal activity; that kind of stuff. She started to think something was wrong with her and she wanted to find out for herself. For a nine year old, she was pretty intelligent and she pestered her aunt to find a way to contact her mother. She finally received her address and called her on the telephone machine. Her mother had told her that she wasn't mad; she was a witch. Ellie asked what that meant and her mother told her one thing; when you get a letter addressed to you by a place called Hogwarts, accept it. Pester your dad until he gives in. And when he gives in, write back to Dumbledore at that address and he'll help you out."

"She went to Hogwarts?" I ask, starting to breathe heavily.

"Yeah. Ravenclaw; like I said, she was very intelligent for her age. Dumbledore visited her house and talked everything over with her dad and he let her go. But, she loves working in her dad's shop. So, she's more into the muggle universe than the wizarding."

I smile as I see how smitten he is with her in his eyes. He continues, "Anyway, I went to her dad's shop hoping to find out exactly where I was. You know, to see if I could just apparate. She told me that I could use her floo and arrive that way. On the way to her flat, we just talked. Naturally. It was so foreign. I'd never gotten the chance to have a relationship with Cynthia being under my watch. I never had free time. But, for once in my life, I wanted to make free time and see her again. So, I got lost again. And again. And again. I think she figured it out pretty quickly and not too long after, we started to see each other."

"That was five years ago?"

"That was five years ago."

"But, you know, Tony, five years is a very long time, you should put a ring on it soon." I joke, he turns to look at me with reddened cheeks.

"Already bought the ring." I stop running.

"Really?" I ask, excitedly, "When are you going to propose?"

"I'm not sure, yet. And please, don't suggest anything, I want to be the one to come up with it." He says, starting to run again.

"Fine, but I'm so excited. She seems like a lovely girl. What is her dad's shop for?"

"Jewelry. I bought her ring there. When I asked her dad for his blessing, he told me I could marry her as long as I bought the ring there. I told him I would, and immediately he went to a shelf in the back and came back with the ring. Told me this was the one."

"Sounds a little bossy."

"No, quite the contrary. Apparently, working together means there's a lot of time to talk about which jewelry you like best. Every so often she would tell him which ring she wanted to be proposed with and it never changed. So, that's the ring I bought her."

"Anthony Ridley, I never knew someone as tough, and small minded as you could be such a romantic."

"I'm not a romantic. Someone literally told me what to do."

"Yeah, like someone told you to go to the shop over and over again to see that girl you spoke to one time."

"That's not romantic, that's creepy in its own way." We turn around to go back to the dorms when we hit the main road. "How about you and Harry? Tell me your story."

"It's really not all that special."

"I just laid out my whole love story to you, you could at least return the favor." I roll my eyes and take a breath.

"Harry Potter." I shake my head, "I had always liked Harry Potter. Even when I didn't know him. When I was four, my father told me a bedtime story about a little boy who saved millions of people's lives by surviving a very bad curse. At the time, I didn't know what this boy's name was and I didn't know what really happened. Shite, I didn't even know that it was real. But, it wasn't until I was six, did he tell us the boy's name and add a little more detail. He finally told us it really happened and that the boy was our age. Well, Ron's age. Now, that was the age where the old story wasn't going to cut it any longer. I needed action and fantasy and what not, so my dad would start to tell different stories with other men and women but I never took interest in it until he finally used Harry as the superhero. And after that, the only bedtime stories he was allowed to tell were ones that used Harry Potter."

"And Harry knows about this, right?"

"Against my wishes, yes; he does. Anyway, Ron went to Hogwarts and he made a friend, named Harry. And by that point, I guess I didn't really process the fact that it was Harry Potter or maybe I did, I'm not really sure. But, when he came home all I could do was ask him about Harry Potter and what he was like. And then one day, I woke up and decided to get some stuff together that I wanted for Hogwarts, and I couldn't find one of my jumpers so I went downstairs to ask my mum. And he was sitting there, in my seat at the breakfast table and I froze, at first because my seat was taken, and then because it was Harry Potter that was taking my seat. And I ran upstairs and stayed in my room until we had to go to Diagon Alley."

I pause to take another break to catch my breath before continuing, "My first year came and I was very-er-impressionable. I had gone into a pretty dark place, and Harry was the one to get me out of it. Of course, I was eleven and he was twelve so we didn't really talk after that. After that I really didn't have any friends until one day, in the summer before my third year, Hermione Granger told me that I was one of her closest friends. It caught me off guard but I really was flattered. So, we started to spend more time together, which I think confused Ron and Harry, but I tried to ignore the fact."

"So, you and Harry were friends?"

"Depends on who you ask; I have a high standard for 'friends'. You have to actually spend time with me and talk to me and hang out with me to be a friend. So, I would say 'no'. But, if you ask Harry, he'd say 'yes'. In my opinion, we didn't really become friends until the end of my fourth year. But, still, I dated two other guys, both who I liked but not really in that way. And in my fifth year, after the match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for House Cup, Harry came through the doors and, well, he kissed me. I didn't even know he liked me. And we dated for six weeks until he had to go off and do Merlin knows what, and decided to break up with me to keep me safe. We got back together after the Battle, and we've been together ever since."

"I feel as though there are more details you aren't telling me." He conjures up a water bottle and takes a gulp.

I smirk at him, "A story for another time."

We finish our jog and go our separate ways to our flats. I take a shower and change my clothes to sweat pants and a tank top. Sitting down on the couch for a moment, I realise the run did nothing for me. I still need to do something. Something I can't put my finger on. I glance over at my clock, well it could be time for an early lunch; maybe I can indulge myself in another meal.

* * *

What is going on with me? Eating lunch didn't help, reading a few chapters of _Broomstick by Broomstick_ hadn't quenched my thirst. I cleaned my flat up, I sat on my balcony, I even flooed my parents, but I still have the urge to do something unknown.

Maybe I just need more sleep; let my mind work through whatever woe it's harboring. I tuck myself under my covers and close my eyes. And sleep...sleep. Go to sleep. Why am I not sleeping yet? Turn over onto the other side, and you'll be asleep. Ready, set, go. Ginny, sleep. Okay, what if I count sheep? One, two, three, four...this isn't working.

I toss and turn and nothing was happening. What do I want? What do I feel like I need to do? Did I forget something? Is there somewhere that I need to be? I roll onto my back and rub my eyes with the heels of palms. And then I think of it. Nope. I deny it. There's no way I'll ever subject myself to that ever again.

I get out of bed and go back into my kitchen. That's asking for trouble, especially after the scare with Sarah's trip to Holyhead Medical. But, I'm craving it. How in the world am I craving it, though? I did literally one puff. One tiny, cough filled puff. But, then again, I think I've had this feeling for a while. Maybe since that one time.

Absolutely not. I refuse to feed it. But, now, as my mind thinks it through; I remember smelling when I went into Sarah's flat the other day to give her a message from Gwenog. And I remember smelling it when I passed by her flat a few times over the past two weeks. Maybe I was, unknowingly, submitting myself to it all this time.

Yet, that doesn't matter. Smelling it doesn't mean I have an excuse to use it. That's a scandal; a career fire. Unless, I do it this one time, and get it all out of my system. That would work, right? Do it once more, feel what that 'maddening high' is like that Charlie told Bill about all those years ago, and be done with it. Plus, it doesn't seem like Charlie is an addict. It sounded as though he came off it immediately. This way I'll know what it's like and realize it what it feels like. I mean, that could be what this craving is; curiosity that's incomplete.

That makes sense, plus, like Sarah said, I can't judge the people who do it if I don't know what it's like. Wouldn't this just be considered seeing what it's like? See what's so great about it? And after that, I'll be able to say I know what it's like, I can get over this 'urge', and move on with my straight and narrow path.

* * *

"Ginny?" Sarah's face appears in her doorway, "What are you doing here?"

"Um-Sarah, how are you?" I ask, awkwardly, fidgeting under her glazed eyes.

"Ginny, why are you at my doorway?"

I look around the corridor, nervously, "Can we talk inside?" She looks at me with worry but moves aside for me to walk into her flat.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

"Yeah," I convince myself, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Well, what do you need?"

I gulp, and look into her eyes, "Sarah, do you have anymore, you know, stuff?" She furrows her eyebrows at me in question, "You know, _stuff_."

"Ginny, what are you talking about?"

"You know, the stuff you showed me...not too long ago." She shakes her head in wonder and then her face relaxes as she realizes what I'm asking.

"Oh," She says, quietly, "why? Do you want some?" I open my mouth to answer but close it. "It's okay, you don't have to explain yourself to me." She stalks over to her living room and pulls out a little, plastic baggie. "There are three in here, you can use the last of them; healers are coming over tomorrow for a last minute checkup and these are going to go bad if they sit any longer."

"They can go bad?"

"Well, kind of, I just don't like them old." She places them in my palm and I immediately stuff them into my sweatshirt pocket, "Ginny, if you're trying them but don't want to get hooked, don't do all three tonight. Don't even do the other two tomorrow. A couple months of a break is safer. And if you don't want to use them all, just throw 'em out." I nod and direct my eyes to the floor.

"Thanks, Sarah." I say, walking swiftly to her door, "And, Sarah, can we kee-"

"Don't worry. I understand." I nod, and leave her flat and quickly and quietly return to my own.

I lock my door and my floo gate immediately. I take the plastic bag out of my pocket and set it on the coffee table. Okay, this is it, one time and then that's it. I open the bag and my nose immediately fill with the stench of the drug. I seal the bag shut again and look around. I need to close my curtains; a reporter could climb up the fire escape and see what I'm doing. I shut all the curtains in my flat and take a seat back on the couch. But, that smell. I've smelled it when I pass by Sarah's flat. That's an instant give-away. I glance at my front door and see a crack of light under the door. The stench could travel through it. Thinking for a second, I go to my linen closet and pull out a couple of towels. I line the crack of my door with them, hoping that would prevent the smell from leaving my small, living space.

I sit back down on my couch and reopen the bag. I take one of the rolls between my fingers. Still can't believe I'm doing this. I light the little tube with my wand and slowly press it to my lips. I suck on the end lightly to get the smoke to come out. I let it fall into my mouth and seep into my throat. It stays for a second before I blow it out.

Am I high yet? I look around the room, everything still looks the same. Still feels the same. I must need to do it a few more times. I repeat what I did again, holding it for longer, and then blow it out. I don't see any flying squids around the room, I don't feel tingly, and maybe those are just preconceived ideas that don't really happen. I repeat the process again. And again. And once more. I don't feel anything. Charlie must have been blowing nonsense up Bill's arse way back when.

I keep going and going, and I have to admit, I'm starting to feel something. Not tingly, not like I'm flying, more like a subtle numbness. Like when you sit for a while and soon can't feel your backside until you stand up again. It takes a while, but soon I finish the blunt. Now, I'm starting to feel the subtle hint of tingles in my fingertips. It's very subtle, almost undetectable. Maybe my adrenaline prevented me from really feeling anything. But, like Sarah said, I shouldn't smoke all three tonight. I swipe the bag from my coffee table and have an inner battle of what to do with it. Maybe I should trash it. I mean, this was a onetime thing, I don't have plans to use them again.

But, what if someone finds them in the trash. What if they trace it back to my flat and know it was mine. What if it falls out of my waste bin and someone sees it before I can hide it? You know what, I'm going to keep them and hide them. That way I have control of it and I can dispose them when I find a time that will be curse proof.

I look around my flat for a good hiding spot. Somewhere where no one will look. So, nowhere in the kitchen; all cupboards and cabinets are opened every day. Shouldn't put it in the bathroom; there's only one and if I have any guests over, they would most likely use it. How about I just hide it under the cushions of my couch. If anyone finds it, I have no idea where they came from; they must have been Cynthia's.

I slide out the cushion and tuck the bag into the flap of material and put the cushion back. I take a seat to catch my breath. And then I realize there is a bag of illegal drugs under my arse. Nope. Won't allow it. I retrieve the bag and look for a hiding spot once more.

You know what, why should I subject myself to hiding these? What if I got rid of them? Not in the trash, but actually make them disappear. By using them. I know Sarah told me not to. But, it's only one time. Only one night where I'll smoke all three. And then my supply would be gone and I won't have any temptation in the future.

I open up the bag once more and take out the second roll. And then the third. And soon I'm roll-less. The tingles have grown and I feel like I can't focus my eyes. That doesn't make sense. I mean, my eyes are focused; I can stare directly at the photographs on the mantle but I feel like my eyes are drifting away on their own path. I throw the bag in the fire to hide any evidence. I take a deep breath-oh no.

I smell it. The stench is in my flat. I freak out. I basically run into my bathroom and open up the little cabinet under the sink. Before I know it, my hands are on the two air freshening mists; I spray them everywhere. All over my couch, my carpet, my curtains, and myself. You know what, screw it, I strip off my clothes and throw them in the wash. I change into a set of pajamas and return to the living room. I look at the door with the towels lining the bottom. I gather the towels together and throw them in the wash as well. I start the charm and let the clothes run through the water and against the washboard over and over. I return back to the kitchen and living room area. I open the curtains; no, there wasn't anything suspicious going on, Holyhead. I just closed the curtains to keep the neon lights from distracting me. From reading. Yeah, from reading.

I unlock my front door and my floo gate. The deed is done. Everything is normal. Kind of.

* * *

"Ginny Weasley! Come in! Come in!" Steve's voice breaks through my thoughts. It's been four days since...well, you know. And all I can think about is getting busted. Someone finding out.

"You wanted to talk to me?" I ask taking a seat on the opposite side of the business partners,

"Of course, we did! We have a couple of matters discuss." Lisa says, opening her leather journal. My stomach drops. Oh no, they've found out. They're going to sack me. I'll have to explain what happened to Mum and Dad and Bill and Charlie. They're all going to be so angry with me that I blew my entire career on such a stupid thing like curiosity.

"Regarding?"

"Your merchandise sales and a couple of publicity gigs we've booked for you." She answers. I feel the color start to flush back into my face.

"Okay."

"So, we wanted to tell you that your action figure is one of the fastest selling action figures for the Holyhead Harpies since Gwenog Jones joined the squad." Steve says, holding up a graph with a growing curve.

"You've made Holyhead so much money, and I'm sure you've noticed that if you've looked at your vault lately." Lisa praises.

"I haven't."

"Well then, you're definitely going to have a nice surprise when you enter your vault the next time."

Steve leans on his elbows, "Now, speaking about the gigs we've booked for you. First, we are taking your action figure intercontinental; Australia and the Americas didn't have direct availability to your doll. They had to order them and wait for us to transport them muggle style. But, with your success, we now have the power to bring them into stores and shops there."

"That's nice." I smile.

"And then, the other gig is another photo shoot and you won't guess who it's with." Lisa says, excitedly.

"Who?"

"_Quidditch Girls_." My face goes pale once more. For those of you who don't know exactly what type of magazine _Quidditch Girls _is, let me tell you. _Quidditch Girls _is known as an adult magazine; a magazine in which adult men indulge themselves into staring at a provocative posing girl wearing little to no clothing. "Of course, you will be wearing some Holyhead apparel that's been cut up and shrunk, so you don't have to worry about nudity."

"I don't know if I'd want to-"

"This isn't about what you want, Ginny. This is about what we've scheduled for you. We plan to have you in the dorms of every school boys across the nation and abroad. Ginny, you have been voted the sexiest witch in the _Quidditch Girls _magazine. If you don't go to this photoshoot, you'll lose that title."

I gulp and nod, understanding that this kind of thing is in my contract with them.

"Alright, you're photoshoot will be tomorrow morning. So get some rest, do a couple sit ups, and then Tony will escort you to the site where Fabian will take a few pictures of you."

"Tomorrow morning? But, I want to warn my family about it before-"

"Do that tonight. You have plenty of time, and we've already confirmed the photoshoot appointment."

* * *

"That's what I'm supposed to wear?" I ask, appalled, "I thought you told me I'd be wearing Harpies apparel."

Lisa furrows her eyebrows at me, "There's a talon on the bra."

"That doesn't make it Harpies apparel, Lisa."

"Technically it does. Steve and I approved it, there is a logo of the Harpies on the cup, therefore it's Harpies merchandise. Now get it on, or we'll fine you for causing the shoot to run late." She leaves me alone in the dressing room. I stare at the lingerie I'm supposed to wear.

I walk out of the dressing room in the robe that was given to me and am met with a dozen watchful eyes.

"Take off the robe, Ms. Weasley; I want to see how it looks." Fabian says from behind the camera. I gulp and untie the robe's belt.

"I like it." Steve says, simply. I try to ignore that comment, knowing that a greasy, slime bag just said he likes me in lingerie. Oh Merlin, what is Harry going to say.

"Alright, Ginny, lay down on your stomach on this bed over here." I stare at him in disbelief. Not only am I in a bra and underwear but now he wants me to pose on a bed.

"I'm sorry?"

"Go on the bed, and lay down on your stomach. Look up at me and bite your finger." I'm uncomfortable. I don't like this. I get up on the bed and take a deep breath before posing like how Fabian asked me to. "No, Ms. Weasley, you look very awkward. Loosen up a bit and look at the camera like you're-you know-into it."

I try to do my best and he seems to be getting annoyed.

"Ginny, remember; sexiest witch title." Steve quietly reprimands from across the room. I nod and look back at the camera and try again. He snaps a couple of photos before looking back at me.

"Steve, Lisa, I think you need to talk to Ginny. I don't think she's getting the gist of this photoshoot." The two walk onto the lighted platform, both with agitated faces.

"Ginny, you're supposed to live up to your title." Lisa reprimands in a whisper.

"I know that, but I'm just not comfortable with this."

"Ginny, this is a part of your career. This is what you've signed up for."

"Well, when you said photoshoots I thought you meant me in a Quidditch jersey. Not me in my undergarments."

"That's not our fault that you misread your contract." Steve says, gripping onto his clipboard. "Pose. Get into it. Be a lioness, a fearless femme fatale. Or there will be a fine." The two walk out of the light and behind the camera once more. I close my eyes.

Okay, Ginny, you need to get into this. How would you feel if Harry saw you in this? Don't lie to yourself, you look hot. You're dolled up, wearing classy lingerie, you shouldn't be awkward. You're supposed to be the femme fatale of the team. Act like it.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Throughout the photoshoot, they pose me on a bed, next to a sink, and on a window seat eating a strawberry. I know what all of these are insinuating, don't think I don't. But, I'd rather not think about the fact that I'm posing for sex appeal rather than Quidditch skill.

When they dismiss me, I couldn't be happier. I basically run out of the site and into the dressing room to cover up. I have a Quidditch match tonight, and I want to get to the Pitch now and avoid any more contact with Steve or Lisa for the rest of the day.

* * *

We won. We proved the _Holyhead Flyer _wrong, and we won. Tutshill didn't stand a chance between my goals and Sarah's new motivation for the game. The ending score was 400-160, and now our win-lose streak is four to two. I finally make it home from Tutshill at around eleven o'clock. There is a pile of mail on the counter as always.

I drop my gym bag on the floor and start to sift through the envelopes.

There is an envelope from _Holyhead Harpies Inc. _Why would they be writing me directly? I tear the paper open and read the printed scroll,

_Ms. Ginevra Weasley, _

_Because of your performance earlier today, we have personally delivered you a notice of reward. Between your positive impacts on the Holyhead Harpies' profit, you have been rewarded with a new dormitory to live in. This dormitory will be located at the address below and you are expected to move within the week. We wish you a happy congratulations._

_Thank you,_

_Sebastian George_

_Owner of Holyhead Harpies Inc_

I smile; a new flat. Because of my performance in the match and my sales? Happy dance time. And to think my day started with me posing half naked on a bed. I set the letter aside and go through the rest of the mail. There's another envelope that captures my eyes.

_Gin, _

_Sorry for not being able to write in a while. Things have been hectic and we've moved once more, now we are in India, learning about working in a different climate. I hope everything is going on well in Holyhead. I can finally say that you can reply to this, and by 'you can' I mean 'you must' reply to this letter. I brought my two-way mirror with me but Robards went through all of our luggage and confiscated it. Don't worry, I'll get it back after the trip is over, but, for now, we're stuck with writing letters this one time. _

_I miss you so much, _

_Harry._

I reply to him; telling him how much I miss him and how great Holyhead has been. I tell him about my reward I literally just got from Holyhead and how well the match went at Tutshill today. I also take this opportunity to warn him about the magazine photoshoot. I told him it was a bit much and I understand if he's not comfortable. I hope he is though, otherwise, we'll have a large bump in our relationship.

I finish off the letter by telling him I can't wait for him to come home. It's been hard to not be able contact him that often. It feels like sixth year all over again. But, I'm sure he knows that, and he's feeling guilty all the way over in India. But, he shouldn't. He's happy doing what he's doing. And to make it better for him, he's one hundred percent sure of what he's doing. That makes one of us.


	11. Chapter 11: Stranger in the Mirror

**A/N: You are most likely not going to like this chapter. This is a very sudden, abrupt character change but trust me, it's needed for the plot. Plus, it's a lot shorter than all of my other chapters. If it's confusing to you, trust me, it's supposed to be. This story is a little OOC with Ginny's personality. But, the reason is that I think she took too much on after the war and never let herself fully recover. And that had a butterfly affect on her personality and behavior. Plus, if you've been taken from your home and your family and put into a completely foreign city with a bunch of strangers, a very common reaction is to go a little crazy. **

**Also, I'm working on finishing my other Mystery story called **_Recovery_**, so updates are going to be paused for awhile until that story is finished. Therefore, I can put all my attention to one story at a time….for the first time since I've joined this site.**

_25 November, 1999_

I am Ginny Weasley. I am _the _Ginny Weasley. I'm an international Quidditch sensation. Loved by all the girls and fawned over by all the men. Voted 'Sexiest Witch' in the last edition of _Quidditch Girls _and _Witch Weekly. _My poster sales skyrocketed the week they had been released along with my sweatshirts and dolls. It's gotten to a point that my fan mail address had to be changed from my living address to a post box somewhere in Holyhead Harpies Inc.

I walk across the red carpet, striking a few poses in my trenched-neckline dress. The press snap photos hungrily, I smile more. Of course, they want photos of me. I'm Ginny Weasley. There are reporters begging me to do an interview with them, but I like to play a little game with the media; make them desperate to get to me. Out of every red carpet track, I choose three lucky reporters who will get the exclusive on the runway. There have been a couple of times where the reporters fight to get to me. But, I enjoy it, the recognition, the interest.

_Eat it up now, because one day, no one will care about whether you have a bruise on your elbow or if you're as right as rain, _Steve's voice break through my mind. And he was right, if living in the moment meant having a little fun with my career, what's the harm, right?

But how did it get to this point? The last time you checked up on me, I was freaking out over smoking a little marijuana, I thought the forty-eight hour rule was serious, and I was afraid to show a little skin on camera. Oh, how naive I was. Times have changed; maybe I've seen the light. An epiphany of sorts.

It came about three weeks ago, when I had one of my guilt trips to Sarah's flat to ask her for some of her stuff. I asked myself, why am I doing this? Why am I falling into my own temptation? Talking myself into doing things I don't want to do? And then it hit me; the reason I was uncomfortable with all of those things; the photoshoots, the smoking and drinking, wasn't because I didn't want to do them; it was because I _did _want to do them.

I wanted to give in to that little demon on my left shoulder; I wanted to do be rebellious, outrageous. I wanted to have my own little fun, my own little discovery. And that scared me. It was either play it safe and follow all rules. Be skeptical of new things and new people. To listen to anyone who claimed authority. But, then there were times where my little demon slipped, like the time at Sarah's flat in September when I tasted my first real flavor of a rebellion, or when I gave in to Steve and Lisa's demands at the photoshoot.

Something about it is invigorating. Having people think they know me, but really don't. Thinking about my family and friends wearing shocked expressions if they knew what really happens at night in Holyhead. _Just let go; be crazy, be rebellious. That's the kind of person the people want to see. The world wants to see someone live a life they know they couldn't pull off, _Lisa's advice rings through my head.

Trust me, I finally did let loose. After the match against Wigtown, the Harpies went out to a little party in celebration. That was an insane night. I tried things I never thought I would even see let alone experience. The girls were laughing and cheering me on, and it felt great. I was finally, completely, accepted into their little group. Ha, that's not even the start of it, I basically became the one they'd go to if they want a good time. Of course, Sarah would be the one to seek the parties out, Mia would be the one to distract the body guards, and I'd be the one who would come up with the sneak out plan.

Oh what has happened to that little, naive Ginny Weasley? She's grown up, like it or not.

I got a letter from Harry this morning; he's probably the only thing in my life that hasn't changed; the only thing that I've been one hundred percent loyal to and don't mind being that way.

_Gin,_

_ We're in France now, it feels great to be, even if it sounds a little ridiculous, closer to the UK. I saw your posters and your action figures, finally, when I went into Paris to meet with a couple of my work mates. I was about to buy one, but I felt that would be odd for a boyfriend to buy a poster of his girlfriend. _

_ I really do miss you, but I can't wait to come back in the end of December; just one more month. Keep working hard, like I know you always have, and I'll be there before you know it. _

_ xx Harry_

'Working hard' is one way of putting it. I mean, yes, I've been working hard on the Quidditch field, but when it comes to photoshoots, talk shows, radio interviews, and things of the like, doesn't take much work. It has started to come naturally to me.

There's one thing about this letter that stands out to me, the fact that he didn't bring up the magazine photos, or the titles, or the articles that have been spread around about me. My family definitely has; George even flooed me and asked me what was going on with the photos.

He had asked me if I was comfortable with them, he seemed surprised when I said yes. It may be a shocker to my family, or maybe even to you, but I like where I am at the moment. Everything is going great. I'm happy.

**A/N: Hate it? You probably do, but trust me, this is a feel good story (although it doesn't seem that way now) Trust me, I have the whole story planned out and like I said before life gets crazy when Ginny let's herself go with the flow in Holyhead, but trust me, the ending is the best part! I love your comments, even the ones that are negative or unsure about what I'm doing! I know some have been asking me how Ginny became so weak willed, but to answer your question, she has been put in a completely new environment, she doesn't know anyone, she's self conscious about herself and she just wants to be accepted, (now after this chapter she's obviously changed from that), but in this story she's going through that faze where she wants to be a rebel, but it's going to backfire. Badly.**


	12. Chapter 12: Baylor in the Summit

_27 November, 1999_

"Ms. Weasley, my name is Mr. Lee, and I'm going to be your healer for today." A wrinkled old man says as he walks into the room where I have been sitting in for the past twenty minutes. "So, how has the test been going for you so far?"

"Fine."

"Nothing too strenuous?" He asks as he gets his clipboard and forms in order.

"No." I say, swinging my feet back and forth.

"Alright, first I'm going to ask you what your average diet looks like. Would you say you get all your main food groups included in every meal?"

"I guess. I mean, I don't really think about it, but I believe I do."

"Okay, and do you obtain a lot of sweets in your everyday diet?"

"Not anymore."

"Anymore?"

"Well, I used to have a couple sugary things a day but my managers have cut me off from them." I reply, watching as he scribbles down my answers.

"Well, one or two sweets a day are perfectly acceptable, so don't feel obligated to not have any ever." He looks up from his clipboard to catch my eyes, "Now, these questions are all routine; do you ever consume alcohol?"

"Well, yeah."

"How often would you say?"

"Not that often, I mean, occasionally; if it doesn't conflict with the forty-eight hour rule or if there's a legitimate reason to."

"Once a month?" He rations.

"Yeah." I lie.

"Have you ever used drugs or any illegal substances in the duration of your Quidditch career?"

"No."

"Have you been, or are you now, sexually active?" I blush at that question. That question, even when I was thirteen and a virgin, always causes me to blush as bright as my hair tends to be.

"Yes." I reply. He nods and checks off a few more boxes on his pink form.

"Alright, I'll have a nurse come in and run a few tests on you, nothing too bad; all routine; most are to confirm the reports you have told me and make sure that you are still at your best. You'll receive the results of each one of these scans in a day or two, but I don't think you'll have any problems to worry about."

"Okay."

"Any questions?"

"No."

"Alright, well, a nurse will be in here in a moment, just sit tight and then after that you'll be all done."

"Thank you."

"Have a nice day."

* * *

Finally, I am dismissed from the physical clinic and am walking with Joan down the sidewalk to the apparation site. For my first clinic, it didn't go that badly; just a couple of physical tests, like sit ups and curl ups, then that medical exam and then I was dismissed; didn't even take me to lunchtime.

"I just can't wait to see our ranks; last year I was ranked fiftieth, which sounds high, but if you think about it; thirteen Quidditch teams with thirteen players; if you include the reserves, that's about one hundred and seventy players. Fiftieth is a pretty good ranking in my opinion." Joan rambles on and on.

"I'm not disagreeing with you. I'm a little nervous, to be honest."

"You'll be fine."

"No, it's not that. I mean, we lied, Joan."

"You'll get used to it."

"No, Joan, it's not that, what if they find out?"

"They won't. Oh, little Ginny, what am I going to do with you? For one, that party was three days ago; all of the alcohol is long gone and won't show up on any tests. Second, if it did; it wouldn't be enough to actually cause any panic; it would be such a little amount they would just count it for a poppy seed bagel you may have had in the morning."

I nod, that makes sense, I just need to calm down and not be so paranoid about losing my job; Joan probably has done crazier things in her lifetime and here I am freaking out over a little party.

"How about we change the subject, eh?" Joan asks, "When will Harry be home?"

"About four weeks."

"Are you excited?"

"Well, of course, I am. He hasn't really had the time to write to me lately, and when he does the letters are kind of short, so I'm just excited to see him and finally hear all of the things he's done."

"What about your family? Anything new going on with them?"

"Haven't really spoken to them in a while." I reply, realizing how long it's been, "I mean, I've been so busy with practice and all the publicity Steve and Lisa are making me do, I guess I haven't really had the time to check in with them. Maybe I'll floo them tonight."

"Tonight? Do you have to do it tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's the night for your initiation."

"Initiation?"

"Yeah, I told you about it weeks ago."

"I thought you were joking."

"I mean, kind of, it's nothing too bad, but it's still tradition. And now that you've completely established that you're going to be here permanently, you have to do one final thing."

"I don't condone hazing." I say, seriously.

"We're not hazing you; you're not going to be outside in the nude or drink a ton of whiskey to have a one night stand with some disease-ridden bloke. It's literally nothing, just a little ritual."

"Why am I so scared?" I laugh.

"Because it may cause a little pain, but you'll be fine." Joan jokes before turning off into her own flat. I stand completely still for a moment; that's not something I want to hear.

* * *

"Will you just tell me what I have to do?" I whine as Joan enters my flat. I've been sitting in my living room waiting in a bundle of nerves to see what Joan and the others were going to make me do. First, Sarah and Marie showed up, both completely calm, yet laughing as they noticed the slight sweat stains under my armpits.

"You're being dramatic. It's nothing big." She laughs, as Mia and Cecilia enter behind her.

"Yeah, it's nothing; except it will last forever." Cecilia giggles from behind our fellow Beater.

"Last forever?" I ask, then think for a moment, "Am I getting a tattoo?"

All the girls stop in their tracks before Joan rolls her eyes, "Yeah...you weren't supposed to guess."

"Sorry, but I did grow up with three crime-solvers." No one seemed to get my joke.

"Yes, you're getting a tattoo. It's a tradition for every Harpy to get one since before any of us were around."

"What is it of?"

"Well, it's a phrase." Joan replies before turning around and lifting up the back of her shirt slightly. I notice on her lower back, there is a cursive scroll that stretches from her left side to her right.

_Joan Penney - Holyhead Harpy - Beater - Est. 1995_

Mia turns around and lifts up the back of her shirt too.

_Mia Larson - Holyhead Harpy - Beater - Est. 1996_

_Cecilia Morton - Holyhead Harpy - Keeper - Est. 1996_

_Sarah Donaldson - Holyhead Harpy - Seeker - Est. 1997_

_Marie Silverstone - Holyhead Harpy - Chaser - Est. 1997_

I can't believe I hadn't noticed these writings on their backs in the changing rooms. And now, to think that I was going to get something scripted onto my back made me tremble in nerves, fear, yet excitement.

"So, do you want to get it? Or are we going to have to force you?" Marie joked. I didn't like the fact that she joked about forcing me to do something like this. It's exactly what the Ministry was working on inhibiting at the very moment. But, Marie wouldn't have to worry about it; I'm ready to officially become a Holyhead Harpy.

* * *

We walk into a little shop on a far corner of town. It's a tattoo parlor, as you probably guessed. I look around at the walls and notice that the girls weren't lying; it really was a tradition of the Harpies. There are pictures of similar scroll but with legendary names attached to them.

_Martha Cook - Holyhead Harpy - Seeker - Est. 1969_

_Violet Pierce - Holyhead Harpy - Chaser - Est. 1980_

_Gwenog Jones - Holyhead Harpy - Chaser - Est. 1988_

"May I help you?" A raspy voice sounds as a bald man, with a beard and piercings through many parts of his face walks through a black curtain from behind the desk. His arms, knuckles, neck and bit of chest that shows through the collar of his shirt are covered in faded tattoos.

"Hey, Jacob." Joan greets with a bit of friendliness, I look around at the other girls and notice Sarah has her arms crossed and is looking everywhere but at the man.

"Penney, Welcome back. What am I of services for today?"

"Our friend, Ginny, here, is ready for her tattoo." Joan says, grabbing me by the forearm and pulling me forward.

"Why, Ms. Weasley; I was wondering when the girls were going to bring you in here. The traditional, I presume?" He looks to Joan, who confirms his speculations. "You seem nervous." He observes.

I shake my head and try to readjust my posture, "I'm not nervous."

"It'll just feel like you're being poked by a sewing needle," he pauses, "a thousand and one times."

He leads me and only one friend of choice, I'm sure you could guess who that was; Joan, to the back room where there's a chair next to a tray with a bunch of needles.

"I prefer to do this the muggle way; they usually turn out better and have less issues along the way." He says, taking his seat. "Penney, you know what your job is; keep her shirt up as I work." She nods and immediately I'm feeling a sense of cold feet, "Weasley, sit in the chair backwards and I'll adjust the chair so I can work on your lower back."

Suddenly, I'm _extremely _uncomfortable with the idea of this man working and concentrating on my body; close to my arse. Joan nudges me forward and I straddle the back of the chair; sitting in it backwards just like he told me to. And I feel the chair raise and adjust so that my lower back is in reach of the contraption he now holds in his hands.

Joan lifts up the back of my shirt and Jacob takes a quill and starts to sketch out what I presume is my name first.

"So, how's your family, Weasley?" Jacob asks, as if he knows who they are.

"They're fine."

"I think your dad is doing a ruddy, good job as the deputy minister. Doesn't seem to be in it for the money or the fame." I try to resist my urge to squirm as the cold metal sketches out worlds across my back, "How exactly did he get the position?"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt has been a close friend of my family since I was a baby. My dad and him worked together during the war, and when Kingsley was appointed the position, he was told to decide his deputy, and he chose my dad."

"Worked together? Oh, you mean for that Order of the Raven?"

"Order of the Phoenix, yeah." I glance over at Joan who seems to be watching Jacob scratch out the tattoo on my back.

"I'm guessing you know all the great details of the war that no one else knows?"

"Meaning?"

"You grew up with the Golden Trio, right?" I nod, "I'm guessing that you know the full story; unlike the rest of us who know shite from the prophet."

"Well, what's there to know?" I shrug off the thought.

"Maybe, what those three were doing when they went off the grid."

A silence fills the room, "Well, I know just as much."

An uneasy tension filled the room as he took my words to signify the end of that conversation. He worked in silence, finishing his stencil to tattoo upon. I've gotten used to the feeling of a quill gliding across my back, but that doesn't mean that I'm ready for the needle part.

After about half an hour of Jacob drawing on my lower back, I hear the sound of melodious clicks as he sets up the muggle contraption.

"Alright, this will take a little longer than the drawing did, if the pain becomes unbearable, say something; don't jump or jerk around; unless you want a dark green line going up your back."

An hour and a half later; I am officially initiated into the Holyhead Harpies.

* * *

"The Burrow!" I toss some floo powder into my fireplace and sit on my heels waiting for someone to answer the floo call.

"Hello?" A voice sounds and from the floo gate. I look down at the pile of firewood to see my father's face looking up at me.

"Oh, hey, Dad, how are you?"

"Doing just fine; how about you, darling?" I smile down at him.

"Fine. I actually have some news for you and Mum, is she around?"

"She's in the kitchen. I can get her if you like."

"It's okay, I'll just tell you first and then I'll tell her, if that's okay?"

"What's wrong, Ginbug?" He looks genuinely concerned; I guess I should have approached this with a little more enthusiasm.

"No, nothing's wrong, Dad. But, I wanted to tell you that I got a tattoo today." He stares up at me blankly.

Okay, maybe I should rewind a bit; my parents are not fans of tattoos. I know what you're thinking; doesn't Bill have a tattoo or two? Yes; how do you think I know that my parents don't like tattoos? They think they're unbecoming of a boy, let alone lady, and that they are a waste of hard-earned money.

I think I remember my mother being very apprehensive when it came to Sirius and his tattoos that were present on his knuckles.

"Okay… of what?"

"Well, it's kind of a tradition of sorts but it says my name, Holyhead Harpies, Chaser and then established in 1999."

"Where?"

I pause, knowing he's going to hate this answer, "On my lower back."

"And explain to me how this is a 'tradition of sorts'?"

"It's something every Harpy does when she proves she's loyal."

"So, it's some type of initiation?"

"I mean, in a technical sense, I guess, but it's not life or death; I still did choose to do this, Dad. And I'm happy with the way it turned out." Silence falls between us and I stare at him, unfaltering.

"Do you want to talk to your mother?" He finally breaks the silence.

"Sure." His face disappears from the green flames, and I wait for my mother to take his place. It seems a little long before my mother shows; my dad must have talked to her before she picked up the call.

"Hey, dear, how are you, today?" She asks, I can tell she's acting with caution.

"I'm fine, Mum, you?"

"Fine. Dad said that you have news for me?"

"Yeah, and judging by how he took it, you're not going to like it at all."

There's a short pause before her smile drops, "You're pregnant?"

"What? No."

"Then what's the news?"

"I got a tattoo," I say, testing the waters before pressing on, "on my lower back, for the Harpies."

She sits there staring up at me, and I'm starting to feel a knot of irritation form at the pit of my stomach due to the big deal they're making this out to be.

"So you got a-what's it called-'tramp stamp'?"

"Well, not really, it's more of a phrase that goes across my lower back; a tramp stamp is more of a symbol in the middle of the lower back."

"Okay, and what does this phrase say?"

"_Ginny Weasley - Holyhead Harpies - Chaser - Est. 1999_."

She presses her eyelids closed before looking at me with a face of disbelief, "Why would you do that? Having writing on your back doesn't help you in any way; it's pointless."

"It's tradition of the Harpies; it's not pointless, Mum."

"How much did it cost you?"

"Why does that matter?"

"How much did you pay for something that's going to be covered by clothing for the duration of your life?"

"Four hundred galleons." I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"Four hundred galleons?" She dramatizes, "Ginny, that's a complete waste of your money that you've worked hours and hours for."

"I like it; I think it's nice."

"Yes, you think it's nice now, but will you think that when you're not playing for the Harpies anymore? When you've settled down? When you're a mother? What will your kids think of you as their mother?"

"What do you mean, 'what will my kids think of me'? The only difference is that they'll have a mother who has a tattoo; my parenting style would not be affected by the fact that I have a bit of writing on my back, Mum."

"You're going to regret it at some point, Ginevra; especially since you paid four hundred galleons for something that no one will see."

"I mean, I could have gotten it from my wrist to my bicep if that's what you would rather have it be."

My mum takes a deep breath before shaking her head, "Why bother talking about this anymore; you're not going to listen to me anyway." She speaks softly, "is that it then?"

"Yeah."

"Well, have a good night, GInny. We'll see you at your match next weekend."

"Goodnight."

My mother's face disappears and the green flames turn back to an orange color. I told my parents, that's two of the three people I wanted to talk to tonight. As you can see, they didn't take it well; I guess I should have seen it going that way-wait-I did see it coming, but I still had hoped that it would go smoother.

I walk to the kitchen of my small flat and prepare a glass of water for myself. I plan on talking to Harry face to face tonight if I can. Taking a sip of my water, I go to the broken mirror I have hanging on the wall of my kitchen. I tap my wand to it, and see a mass of black hair.

I pause in shock, not expecting to see anything of value. I set my water down, "Harry?" I say into the mirror noticing that his head is resting on his hands. He must be sitting at a desk of some sort and the mirror must be propped up in front of him.

"Harry?"

He may be sleeping; it looks darker there than it is here.

"Harry?" He jumps, startled and looks around the room he's in.

"Harry." I say once more and his eyes plant on me through his crooked glasses.

"Ginny." He says, perking up and adjusting himself. He fixes his glasses and picks up the mirror, "How are you? What are you doing up? I didn't think I was going to see you anytime soon on here."

"Neither did I. I'm fine; are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine; hanging in here." He looks around the room once more, "I'm alone in my tent at the moment."

"I'm alone in my flat at the moment."

"So, how's Holyhead? I saw that you guys won your last match; brilliant!"

"Yeah, we won; practice is hard, but I'm hanging in there. I had my first physical clinic this morning. I think I did fine for a rookie but won't really know for a couple of days until my results and ranking comes in."

"Anything else, on your mind? You look like you want to tell me something."

"Well, yes, actually." I reply. After what happened with my mum and dad, I'm a little hesitant in telling Harry. He sometimes tends to have similar opinions they do. "I got something today and I really love it; but, you know, my parents don't agree with me."

"Okay; what is it?" He asks, cautiously.

"I got a tattoo."

"Okay, of what?" He doesn't seem fazed by it.

"It says, '_Ginny Weasley - Holyhead Harpies - Chaser - Est. 1999_'."

"Where?"

"My lower back." I say, taking a step back and turning around so that it's in view of the mirror. When I turn back, I can see he's a little reluctant on the idea.

"Was the tattoo artist a man or a woman?" He asks.

"A man, why?"

"No reason." He says, diverting his eyes from the mirror. I watch his face for a second before giggling.

"Harry Potter, are you jealous that a man has seen my lower back lately, and you haven't?" I tease.

"No, but I'm sure he had to touch it to scratch that in."

I take a deep breath and nod my head, a smirk still planted on my face, "Indeed, he did have to." Harry's eyes lock with mine and I can tell he actually may be a little jealous. "You honestly have nothing to worry about; he was around thirty with tattoos and piercings everywhere, and I think him and Sarah have history."

"You said your parents didn't take it well?" He asks, obviously trying to change the subject.

"No; you know Mum and Dad, they are pretty laid back with everything, but when it comes to tattoos, they just don't like them. They didn't blow up on me as much as they did with Bill, but they still let me know they didn't like the idea."

"What about it do they not like?"

"The price, the fact that it's 'pointless'; doesn't gain me anything, the idea that I did it to 'prove' myself permanent on the Harpies; which is only a part of it, _a small part_. I wanted to do it on my own for a while now." I explain, "You know how much I've wanted a tattoo. They're lucky I waited until I was eighteen; I could have done it the day I became of age."

"I know, you talked about it with me for two hours almost every time you went on break. How much did you pay for it?"

"Yeah, I have a feeling you won't like the price either." I say, avoiding eye contact, "Four hundred galleons."

The thing with Harry is that, yes, he's financially stable and has money to throw away but he doesn't spend it often. He's not cheap; I'd rather say frugal. I guess spending so much time with my family; he saw how much money is actually worth.

"Four hundred galleons?" He repeats in shock, "Just for some writing on your back? I could have done that for free with just a quill and some ink."

"Harry."

"I'm sorry, but I understand what they're saying. It's a little expensive for something that no one is going to see."

"Oh, sorry, Mum, I meant to call my boyfriend." I roll my eyes.

"Hey, don't get angry; I'm just trying to say that maybe your parents are right on a few things. I mean, I wouldn't agree that tattoos are 'unbecoming', as I remember they described them as when Bill got his, but I agree they're too expensive for no good reason."

"Well, thank you for that wise incite. Anything else?"

"Okay, now why are you getting angry with me?"

"Who said that I'm angry?" I ask, calmly.

"You definitely didn't like what I just said."

"I'm not angry." I say, taking another sip of my water, "I have to go to bed."

"Hey," he says before I can tap off, "we'll do this again? Next Friday? Eight o'clock, your time?"

I look at his pleading eyes; I can tell he's lonely, "Sure." I answer, "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight."

* * *

_7 December, 1999_

I walk into my front door and turn on the lights. Practice was brutal, as usual, the day was long, as usual, Steve and Lisa gave me another run down on my poster sales and action figure profit, as usual, and Xavier had a lot to say about my lunch and the unhealthy products I had in it, as usual. Today has just been usual.

I throw my gym bag onto my couch; I need to wash my athletic clothes before tomorrow morning, and move into the kitchen to look through my mail. Today is the day my rankings are supposed to be announced.

Junk, junk, junk, letter from Hermione, junk, junk, memo from Harpies Inc., junk, junk, ju-aha! I tear open the envelope to finally find out where I stand.

_Thank you for participating in the 1999 physical clinic for the International Quidditch League. This is a required series of tests all players, reserves included, must complete twice each season. In the attached paper you will find the rankings of every player in the International Quidditch League. We hope you will b-_blah, blah, blah.

I remove the top paper to look at the rankings. My eyes skim down until I find my name. Luckily, I'm close to the top.

_18\. Noah Knight_

_ 19\. Christina Gordon_

_ 20\. Ginevra Weasley_

_ 21\. Owen Reid_

Twentieth; that's not that bad. I'm the highest ranking on my individual team; that's something to be proud about.

* * *

_ 11 December, 1999_

"And that concludes this match! Final score; Montrose Magpies; 560, Holyhead Harpies; 750! Thank you to today's sponsor, Mathilda's Women Clothing line; dress comfortably."

"Hey, Red, drinks tonight? On me?" Mia asks, as we stand in front of our locker's unchanging from our sweaty uniforms.

"Sorry; family's in town. Have to go out with them."

"Oh, that's unfortunate; was hoping to get pissed face and you're the only fun drunk here."

I snort, "Would love to; but you know, family time."

"Are all of your brothers here?"

"I believe so, why?"

"Just wondering-well, I shouldn't say that _I_ was wondering; we all know that Joan was wondering."

I glance over to Joan, "And why would Joan care?"

"She finds one of your brothers attractive." Joan looks over her shoulder at us and winks at me.

"Really? Who?" I ask, with disgust evident on my face.

"Never you mind." She replies, teasingly.

"No, you'll tell me right now." I say, pulling my shirt over my head.

"Don't worry about it."

"Ginny; Joan finds scars attractive if that will help you." Gwenog calls from the other side of the room. It actually takes me a second to think; all of my brothers technically have scars; we fought in a war for Merlin's sake.

"Bill? You find Bill attractive?!" I ask. Joan looks over her shoulder with a smirk. "That's absolutely disgusting."

"Hey, I like scars." She jokes, brushing her hair, "I would go pining after Harry but that's against girl code."

"And liking my brother isn't?"

"Have you slept with your brother?" She asks with her little know-it-all attitude, "Then no; it's not against girl code. Contrary to the fact that you sleep with Harry on a regular basis, _that _would be against girl code."

We finish changing and Gwenog gives her last remarks before we disperse for the weekend. Today, she actually seemed proud of our performance on the field. That's a first.

I walk out of the dressing room and walk to the main entrance where I know my family is sitting waiting for me. I should have worn a midriff-showing top just to spite my parents. I keep my head down to avoid any contact with fans; I don't feel like signing autographs or taking pictures today. Of course, it's hard to avoid anyone when I have fire-bright hair-maybe I should dye it brown or something.

"Ginbug! There you are; we thought you'd forgotten we were going to meet up!" Charlie calls out before grabbing my around my neck and ruffling up my hair with his knuckle.

"Will you please not call me that in public?" I say back before squirming out of his embrace, "And don't do that either." I take a step back and fix my hair, "And why would I forget about our plan?" I say, making sure that my makeup isn't smudged.

"I don't know; it was a joke." He says, seriously from next to my brothers.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask, in general to anyone.

"We thought you'd choose." Bill replies from next to Fleur with Victoire in her arms.

"Alright." I say, starting for the door. They follow after taking a second to realize I was leading them to where I wanted to go.

* * *

We walk to the restaurant in silence; I wonder if this has to do with me snapping at Charlie for being childish in the main foyer. We get to _Cafe China, _the Chinese restaurant the girls took me to back in July.

We sit down at a large, circular table in the back corner to stay out of the way of people who may recognize us. I pick up a menu and start to read it over. No one is saying anything, but in the corner of my eye I can see Hermione and Ron sharing a conversation through looks.

"So, Ginny, what has happened in Holyhead, lately?" Angelina asks.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I set down my menu and lean back in my chair.

She glances at George and then at me, "Nothing-I-I just wanted to know if anything cool or amazing has happened since we last spoke."

"Nothing of an significance." I reply, returning to my menu.

"Have you spoken to Harry?" Ron asks.

I glance up from the trifold, "Yeah."

"And?"

I shrug, "What do you want to know?"

"Well, how is he?"

"Alive. Isn't that all that matters?"

Ron stares at me, blankly, for a moment before picking up his menu and reading it over.

"Hi, my name is Sue and I'll be your server for today, can I start you off with anything to drink?"

* * *

"Alright, we'll see you in a few weeks?" Mum asks as we all walk out of the chinese restaurant.

"Yeah, I go on break by the fifteenth of January." I answer, putting my hair up into a ponytail.

"And Harry will be coming over as well?"

"I don't know; ask him." I say, looking over my shoulder toward the street where the Harpies' dorms are.

"Okay, we'll be going but let us know when you find room in your busy schedule to fit us in." George snaps completely out of the blue, patting me on the shoulder and walking down the street without any other words.

I watch him leave and roll my eyes; remind me, what had I done this whole afternoon?

"Bye, Ginny." Hermione says, giving me a quick hug before leading Ron in the other direction. The rest of my family bid their goodbyes leaving me in front of the chinese restaurant. Wow, no one's even going to walk me to my dorm; that's great.

* * *

I enter the Harpies' dormitories and start up the stairwell to my flat. Looks like the girls aren't home from their outing to the bar yet. Merlin, how I'm jealous of them.

Walking toward my flat, I notice three burly men hauling furniture down the hall. Furniture that looks like-hey, isn't that my couch. I start to walk faster, confused at what is happening. I get to my flat and the front door is wide open.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" I ask, running inside.

"Relax, Ginny." Steve comes through my bedroom door.

"What's going on?" I ask, worried. Did I lose my job? Did they find out? What did I do?

"Holyhead Harpies Inc. is rewarding you, didn't you get the memo we sent you?"

"Rewarding me?" I ask, there are two taps on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, Ms. Weasley." A deep voice sounds from behind me. I turn around to see a man in a suit with a very, superior appearance, "The name is Sebastian George."

"Mr. George owns Holyhead Harpies Inc." Steve explains.

"Due to your addition to the Holyhead Harpies, Harpies Inc. has had a thirty-two percent increase in profits; in other words, you've made more money for the company in the span of six months than the amount of money the average player makes in the span of six years."

"I've really made you guys that much money." I ask for clarification.

"Yes, and because of this, we'd like to not only give you a raise in salary, but we also are providing you with a small home on the south side of Holyhead."

"South side of Holyhead, but that's where all the really big celebrities live. You know, like millionaires. I don't fit in there."

"It's our treat. Your house is named the Summit, and you'll be completely moved in by tonight."

"I don't know; are the other girls getting the same treatment. I mean, if it weren't for them I wouldn't be where I am now. Plus they've been on the team for years."

"No; they're not the ones who made us the money." Mr. George answers before turning on his heel and leaving my flat.

"Steve, I don't know if I want to move."

"Sorry, it's already official, plus this flat is property of Harpies Inc.; you don't have a choice other than to move out."

"But, I've already been moved once for this reason."

" And you're being moved again because you've done an even better job of it." He explains, "Listen, Gwenog will be one of your neighbors, along with my family and I, Lisa, and Mr. George. You won't be alone, and maybe one day, if those girls make enough money for the Harpies, they'll be your neighbors too." I nod, "Now, get all of your personal things and then floo over to your new house."

* * *

The Summit is huge. According to Steve, it's one of the smallest houses in the neighborhood but it's about four times the size of the Burrow.

"I can't live here." I told Steve when we first looked around the place, "This could be an amazing house for the orphans of the war."

"Well, it won't be because it's property of the Harpies and the Harpies is providing it for you." He had replied back with.

* * *

_25 December, 1999_

My first Christmas away from my friends and family. I sit in my new house, alone. You'd think the large size could occupy my time; I could decorate the place in Christmas lights and holly and just spend the day in my own world, away from all the madness I've been living in. But, to be honest, decorating for the holidays was never my thing; I like the finished product, not the time it took to get to it.

On Saturday, Holyhead had a game against Falmouth Falcons, we, against my predictions, won. This leaves us at a 9-3 win lose streak. Technically, I'm on break from Quidditch, but from a publicity perspective it won't be for another few weeks until I'm off.

It's snowing outside. First snow of the year and the first white Christmas I've seen in awhile. Why let it pass before my eyes? I climb up my stairs to the closet in upstairs hallway. Pulling out the winter coat, I start to bundle up to go take a walk out in Holyhead.

Most of the little shops are closed today; makes sense, it is Christmas day. Little kids run up and down the sidewalk, some with snowballs in their hands; reminding me of my brothers and I when we were younger.

Today, I don't care if anyone recognizes me, actually, I'd like it if someone approached me for a photo, or an autograph. Since, I've moved, there's been an awkward tension between the girls and I, maybe it's jealousy on their part or me overthinking it on mine, but they haven't invited me to any outings or parties since I've gone across town.

When I sent the new address out to my family, I didn't really get a 'congratulations' or even a thought of enthusiasm from any of them. Actually, my parents were the only ones to write back, and they wrote the minimum on the subject.

_Thanks for sending your new address. We'll make sure to change it in our address book._

I stuff my hands into my coat pockets and nestle my face in the scarf around my neck. I've been walking for about twenty minutes and my nose already is feeling numb. I wonder if there are any coffee shops open at the moment. Walking with a purpose, I scan each store sign until I see one for a coffee shop. I guess, like they say, third time's a charm because after finding two closed coffee shops, I finally get to one that's open and slip inside.

"Merry Christmas, Ma'am. What can I get for you today?" I unwrap the scarf from around my face and scan over the menu, "Oh Merlin; you're Ginny Weasley!"

I look back to the pimple-faced, teenage boy, "Yes, and you are?"

"Oh, sorry, the name is Brian. I'm a huge fan." He says, excitedly.

"Why, thank you. Tell me, why are you working on Christmas Day? Not that I'm complaining, but shouldn't you be with your family?"

"Nah, trying to make enough money to pay rent; no time to slack." He replies, "I'm an aspiring actor; only working with a small company now and again; since work is hard to find here."

"Oh, what company?"

"Faces; like I said, it's a small company and-"

"Well, I'll keep my eye out for it, and when I see a show opening, I'll definitely come to it." I smile, "And also, I'd like a peppermint hot cocoa." I say, pointing up at the picture on the menu.

"Alright, that'll be right up." He takes about three minutes to prepare my hot chocolate before turning back around, "One peppermint hot cocoa for Ms. Weasley. On me."

"No," I reply, taking out a sickle and three knuts, "I can't let you do that."

"No, it's fine."

"Sorry, Brian, but I'd rather pay for it myself; keep the change." I say, before turning on my heel and leaving the small coffee shop. Once I get out through the front door, I wrap the scarf around my neck once more and start back down the sidewalk.

"_Merry Christmas, merry Christmas, ring the Christmas bell. Merry Christmas, merry Christmas, drink the Christmas ale." _A group of carolers sings at the corner. I through a sickle into the small can that sits a meter in front of them and keep walking until I see a shop with the sign blinking 'open'.

It's a pet shop. I haven't been in one since my family and I went into the Owlery to buy Pig for Ron.

"Happy Christmas, Ma'am." The man behind the counter greets as I walk through the door.

"Happy Christmas, sir." I reply, walking into the aisles where some animals are. Maybe that's what I should do. Maybe I won't be as lonely in my house if I had a little friend with me.

"Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

"I'm not sure, yet, but thank you-"

"We just got a family puppies yesterday; cute little things. Would you like to see them?" He asks, already starting to walk that direction.

"Sure."

"Here they are. They're mutts, unfortunately, but the most beautiful of them."

"Do you know what they're mixes of?" I ask, as I come closer to the little pen he has set up for them.

"Labrador Retriever and Husky mix." He replies, gesturing me to come closer. I peek in and see about six little puppies, all happy, wagging their tails, smiling up at me-well, smiling if they could smile. All seem to be interested in me, except one. "This little girl is a sweetie pie; happy and full of energy." He says picking up one of the bigger puppies.

"What's wrong with that one?"

My eyes go to the one puppy in the back, who's lying down with his head on his paws, "Him? Oh, he's just the runt of the litter. Doesn't seem to be as enthusiastic as his family members. He'll be the one to sell last."

His eyes snap open and focus on me, "He has the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen on a puppy." He lifts his head and blinks his ice blue eyes a couple of times at me.

"Yeah, I imagine he can't see that well."

"Why? Is he blind?"

"I don't know; but blue-eyes tends to signify that, ma'am."

"May I hold him?"

"Are you sure you don't want to meet the other dogs?"

"No, it's not that I don't want to see them; but he just looks so sweet." I look at the man who seems to be studying me.

"Sure." He replies, almost confused, setting down the puppy in his arms. He walks into the large pen and picks up the smallest of the puppies. The white and brown dog yelps as the man touches him; he must have some anxiety issues. "Here, be careful." The man says as he places the dog in my arms.

"Hi, there." I coo, scratching the little puppy's back. He looks up at me with his blue eyes, and starts to shake, "It's okay," I kiss his little head, "I'm not going to hurt you." I start to rock back and forth and he looks away from my eyes and yawns.

"How old is he?"

"Just hit eight weeks old, two days ago." The little boy lies his head on my shoulder and I swear I hear him sigh.

"He's so sweet." I say, stroking his back.

"He seems to really like you." The man says. The bell at the front of the store rings; must mean another customer entered. He excuses himself and leaves me alone with the pup in my arms. I rest my head against his, and he licks my ear.

"Aw, thank you." I smile, and crane my neck to look at him once more. He's definitely smaller than his brothers and sisters. I know that runts of litters tend to have some health problems; could I handle that? Could I handle a dog with sight problems? He licks my cheek. I smile and kiss him back right on his little brown nose. I guess, I should have thought that through; he sneezes right into my scarf, "What would I even call you?" He looks at me again and starts to pant. "Baylor."

I think I've fallen in love all over again.


	13. Chapter 13: Hard Work Paid in Full

_16 January 2000_

"I need more." Sarah laughs as we sit on my couch. It's only noon and we're already having the time of our lives. "I don't get why we didn't try this before." She says, pouring the white powder onto the table and lining it up with the ripped-off corner of a book.

"Oh, come on, Sarah; don't hog it all." One of Sarah's friends teases. I don't know who this girl is but when Sarah and her showed up on my doorstep this morning, I couldn't let one in and not the other.

Sarah takes a straw and lines with the end of the powder. Sticking the straw in her nose, she sniffs up the white powder and takes a deep breath. I laugh at her response to it; her third snort and she still acts as if it's her first.

I take another sip of my energy drink and squint to the clock across my living room.

"Oh, shite." I mutter.

"What is it?" Sarah asks, wiping her nose.

"I have to leave soon."

"To go where?"

"My parents house." I say, finishing off the can and standing up.

Sarah laughs a little, "Why?"

"Sunday family dinner." I mock my mother's voice and roll my eyes, "Big waste of my Sunday night if you ask me."

"You know what's funny, Red?" Sarah states with a smile on her face, "Here Jess and I are, and we're giggling and all happy from this stuff; but then there's you who's sassy and blunt. This stuff must have the opposite effect of alcohol."

"I guess so." I send her a sarcastic smile and move to the trash to throw away the can in my hands.

"So, are you going to call your family, tell them you're sick or something?" She asks, taking a sip of her drink.

"Can't, they know when I'm lying. Plus my mum would skin me alive if I didn't go today" I say.

"Why?" Jess responds in her heavy, Scottish accent.

"Harry's home; and for once I don't have anything job related to do so I'm 'meant' to be home." I reply, "Sorry, girls, but we're going to have to finish this for the weekend." I say, brushing the remaining powder onto the floor.

"Can we leave the bag here? I think Maurice is getting suspicious of me and we can't trust Jess."

"Sure. Just leave it on the coffee table and I'll get to it later."

"Alright, cool. My thoughts and prayers are with you as you go to your little, family dinner."

"Thanks; want to switch places?" I joke before getting serious, "I really don't want to go."

"No, I'm okay. But, hey, at least Harry will be there." She reminds me as she walks with her friend to the foyer. She lets herself out and I lock the door behind them.

I leave the foyer and move to the bathroom, making sure there isn't any more white on my face, the last thing I want is to go to the Burrow covered in powder. I turn on my heel and walk up the stairwell until I get to my room. I change my clothes; skinny jeans, a white t-shirt and a brown, leather jacket. I put on my combat boots and move to my bathroom where I brush my hair and fix my make up.

_"Let us know when you find room in your busy schedule to fit us in." _George had snapped at me. He didn't even say goodbye to me. He acted as though I didn't have to turn down outings with my friends and rearrange all of my weekend plans to see him and the rest of the family. Yes, I did find room in her busy schedule, and he should be grateful that I did.

And don't get me started with Ron and Hermione. I wonder if they know I saw the looks they sent to each other during lunch. I'm almost completely positive they were about me. Way to make me feel like a close friend of yours, Hermione.

I'm sick of my family treating me as though I'm a different person. I'm no different than I was when I was fifteen, sixteen, or seventeen. And even if I am a little different, they shouldn't act as though I'm not the Ginny they once knew; like I'm a distant family friend, not their sister or daughter.

_ "Thanks for sending your new address. We'll make sure to change it in our address book." _Wow, I think we sent almost the exact same thing to Aunt Muriel's neighbor when they moved out of the country. Not even a '_congratulations, you've done so well! You deserve to move into your new luxury home.'_

I glance at the clock; seven o'clock. I should have been there an hour ago; but hey, like George said, I have a busy schedule, six o'clock just doesn't fit into it.

* * *

I walk into the living room of the Burrow; I haven't been in here since June. I can hear voices from the kitchen; I take a deep breath, making sure I have my temper completely in check before walking toward the room.

"Ginny? I thought you weren't coming, dear." Mum says; all conversation stops. I glance around the table and then nod to her.

I take the empty seat, that's in between Harry and Ron. Harry's watching me; I can feel his eyes, steady on me. All conversations have come to an end and, like Harry's, all eyes are on me.

"How are you?" Bill asks in a very, careless manner.

"Fine." I reply, picking up my fork and surveying the table. It seems Mum didn't make any of my kind of plates. I put the fork back down and push the plate away from me. A silence breaks in the room before my father's eyes glance between Bill and me.

"So, Ginny," My father starts, "What are your plans for the time until the playoffs start?"

I brush my hand through my hair, "I'm probably just going to relax at home." I answer, taking a sip of the water in front of my plate. As soon as the water goes into my mouth, my nose scrunches, "Why is this water warm?"

"You were late; things don't just stay cold." George answers. I look at him and roll my eyes.

"No, really; I had no idea." I say, sarcastically, "What I mean is why didn't anyone charm it when it was apparent I was going to be late."

"We didn't even know you were coming; why charm something if we don't know it's even going to be used." Percy answers. I roll my eyes.

"Well, if I wasn't coming, I would have flooed." I say, setting the glass back down.

"Why were you late, again?" Bill asks from the other side of the table.

"Like George pointed out the last time we all joined up; I have a very busy schedule. It's hard to fit things in, and, well, I had to reschedule a lot of things to be here tonight."

Silence overcomes the table once more and I pull my wand out and charm the glass of water in front of me.

"Ginny, how about you get something to eat." My mum gestures to the food that's half gone and spread across the table.

"No, it's fine; I ate before I came here." I lie, putting my elbows on the table and my head on my hands.

"Why would you eat when you're coming to a family _dinner_?" Percy asks, confused. I shrug, deciding not to answer the question. I look around the table once more and see that Ron and Hermione are giving each other looks like they did back at _Cafe China_.

"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry asks from next to me, he lies his hand on my thigh and, almost immediately, I tense up. I wonder if it's the drugs that are making me sensitive. He notices the change in my posture when he does that and immediately withdraws his hand.

"I'm fine." I snap at him and then turn back to my water to drink another long sip of it.

"Okay, sorry, this is ridiculous; what have we done to you that has pissed you off?" George snaps, "Because I'm finding it annoying that you're annoyed with being here. I'm sorry that we're not your little, rich friends in Holyhead, but, unlike them, we've been here for you since the beginning yet _you _are the one who's making us feel like we owe you something. Like you just graced us with your presence and we're supposed to bow down and kiss your feet because of it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, George." I say, scratching the exposed chip in the plate in front of me.

"Really? '_I have a busy schedule and I had to reschedule a lot of things to be here.'_" George mocks me, "Wow, I've never heard someone so stuck up."

"Stuck up? When have I ever been stuck up?"

"Ever since you became this _big_ star." He pauses, "And we've done nothing but be there for you as much as we can and you come back with this too-good-for-you attitude."

"Sure, you've been 'there' for me since the beginning. You don't even support me; none of you. I understand if you don't like what I do; but I sent you all letters telling you that I was promoted and got a raise and a new house. Guess what I didn't get back?" I ask, there's silence over the table, "A congratulations would be the winning answer. Any sort of appraise would work too. None. I got a notification that my address in the address book will change like a distant, second cousin removed, but that's all."

"Well, we didn't know it was such a big deal. You hardly explained why you got promoted in the first place." Bill states, putting Victoire on her mother's lap. "_And _you've already moved once before; I thought it was something that just happens often."

"Okay, well, how about the fact that you guys made me feel like a complete delinquent just because I got a tattoo that, like all three of you said," I look at my parents and Harry, "no one will see."

"We didn't mean to make you feel like an outcast, Ginny; you asked us for our opinion on the matter and we didn't agree with you. That wasn't a jab at you."

"Oh really? Bringing in my future parenting style isn't 'a jab at me'? Telling me it's 'unbecoming' isn't a jab at me? Mum, you made sure you got the point across that getting a tattoo was worse than getting pregnant before marriage."

"I said no such thing." My mum defends.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. I glance over at the couple beside of me, "Ron, Hermione, stop looking at each other. I get it, you have something to say that is most likely about me but you could hold it until I'm not around. You guys aren't as sneaky as you think you are, you know."

Hermione goes wide-eyed and I can tell I've offended her, "What? We did no such thing. And why would you accuse me of that? I've only been your best friend and have been standing up for you every time someone says anything negative about you; I would never be a hypocrite and do just that."

"I beg to differ."

"Okay, what's the issue here, Ginevra?" My father speaks up, "Because I will not sit here and let my daughter act like a complete-"

"A complete what?"

"-spoiled brat." Silence once again goes over the table, "This is the exact reason why I didn't want you to go into Quidditch as a career. I knew you were talented and I had a feeling it would all go to your head."

"Oh really? That's rich coming from the man who told me to 'follow your dreams, Ginny. Don't let your brothers make you think you can't make it'." I mock my father's words from when I was a child.

"Yeah, that was when I had faith that you wouldn't turn into one of those girls possessed by fame and money."

"I am not possessed by fame." I stand up, "Or money."

"You could've fooled us." George mutters from across the table, "New makeup, jewelry, how much have you paid for that jacket?" He crosses his arms, "Oh, wait, I forgot; Holyhead Harpies don't have to work for things; they just stand, look pretty, and everything is given to you. I hope you're happy with your new life in Holyhead; we've just been staying over here being together, like a family."

My mouth hangs open with his hypocrisy, "Coming from the boy who left us to start a joke shop when the family needed you the most." I snarl.

George stands up, napkin falling to the ground, "I didn't _leave _the family. I opened a shop and," He gasps for dramatization, "lived here. And when I did move out to London you know what I did; I stayed in touch. I came to every Sunday dinner on time, ready and happy to spend my evening with the family that sacrificed everything to stay together. Can't say the same for you."

"George, calm down." Angelina stands up, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"No; I will not calm down. Not while this person pretends to be the innocent, little sister I used to have. I'm sick of her trying to make herself out to be the victim here."

"Tell me how I'm the bad guy, George. Please; I'd really like to hear." I argue.

"Okay; I can name three reasons off the top of my head. One," He holds up a finger, "you never show up for Sunday dinners; I live in London, that's almost as far away as Holyhead is; you never have a match on Sundays, Ginny. You could always leave Holyhead on Saturday, after a match, and come back Sunday night." He holds up another finger, "Two, I don't think I've heard you ask the question, 'what's going on in your lives' since you've moved to Holyhead. All we ever talk about when we get together is you; you doing this, you doing that.

"Ron and I hit an all-time high in sales two months ago. Bill was promoted to chief curse-breaker a couple of weeks ago. Hermione has had a great leap in the development of SPEW; it may go as an official statement of the Ministry. And," He gasps again for effect; "Harry is sitting right next to you after a six month mission. You haven't even given him the time of day."

"You cannot get snippy with _me_ over _your_ accomplishments; how am I supposed to know, George? None of you write to me. And when _I _write to you, I never get a response. You're yelling at me for not acknowledging your great leap in sales, or Bill's promotion, or Hermione's accomplishments when I had _absolutely no _idea that they even existed."

"And there you go, the last thing," He puts up a third finger, "when we _are _around, it's like we don't exist."

"What do you me-"

"How many times while we were at Cafe China did you look over your shoulder, zone out, or shrug off a question we asked you?" He puts his hands on the table and leans on them, "More times than I can count on my fingers and toes. You didn't want us there then and you obviously don't want to be here now. So, why are you here?"

"Why? That's a good question, I don't even know why. I love being in Holyhead. For once, people see me and they stop and they stare because I'm a big deal. I come here and I might as well be out in the chicken coop because that's all I'll ever be in your eyes." I say, crossing my arms.

My dad stands up, and it's this exact moment where I should have realized that I said something wrong, but I mean, it's me; so I don't, "You must joking, Ginevra." My father snarls, red-faced, "If you think that that's how I see you, then explain the hundreds of galleons I've paid in Quidditch tickets and food and lodging just so I can go see you play. All that time I've taken off of work to make sure that I can get to Holyhead in time for the starting whistle." He takes a deep breath through his nose, "If I see you so poorly, explain to me why I would even bother travelling all that way to visit you."

"Because it would look bad for your new image as a Ministry Official if you didn't come and 'support' your daughter." I argue. Silence once again overcomes the table.

"You know what, Ginevra, George is right; you don't want to be here. So, why are you?" His eyes darken, I purse my lips, "You can leave now." He takes a seat and folds his napkin back on his lap.

"Don't mind if I do." I say, walking out of the kitchen and flooing back to my house.

* * *

I take off my jacket and chuck it, full force, at my couch in front of the floo gate. I've never been so infuriated in my life. I just need to-I just need some-I clench my fists and pace back and forth. What do I need?

Then it hits me.

I look down at my coffee table and rush to the couch where I can sit in front of it. Pulling out the baggie, I pour a small amount onto the table and take the book cover Sarah brought to line it up as narrow as possible. I need a straw-which straw was mine? I decide it doesn't matter and grab the one that's closest to me-

The fires in my floo gate glow green and out walks a confused Harry, "Ginny, what the hell was that all abo-" He stops when he sees what's in my hand, "Ginny." I immediately drop the straw and start to gather up what's on the coffee table.

"It's nothing." I say, but he rushes forward and grabs my wrists to stop me from hiding. He grabs the baggie out of my hand and stares at it for a second.

"I can't believe you." He says, plainly. I gulp and watch as he takes a couple steps back and clench his fists around the bag. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like." He says, dark, green eyes piercing through mine. I cross my arms and look away, "Do you know how much trouble I can be in if they knew that I didn't report this ?" I look back up at him, "I could get suspended for this, Ginny."

"Well, then don't worry about it." I say, snatching the bag back. "You're not even the one doing it."

"Yes but I found someone who _is _doing it...and it's against the law." I cross my arms and look away, "How long have you been doing this?" He yells, grabbing it back from me. My breath is heavy and I stare at him for a second. "How long?" He asks again, angrier than before.

"I don't know." He turns away from me and starts muttering to himself.

"It all makes sense now." He says, shaking his head; almost humored by the fact he didn't realize it sooner, "The mood swing at dinner, the impulse to outrageous." He pauses, and finally makes eye contact with me, "You're a drug addict." I stare at him in disbelief; no one has ever called me that.

Silence fills the room once more and we stare at each other throughout it.

He breaks it, of course, "Well?" I gulp and adjust my posture, "Are you going say something? Fight back? You seemed pretty eager to fight back at the Burrow."

"I'm not a drug addict." I say, simply.

"Really? Then how do you explain this?" He holds up the bag, "And the incredibly sharp stench in here. You're not just on this stuff; you smoke stuff, too, don't you?"

Baylor creeps in, tail between his legs. He starts to shake and whimper in fear; maybe he can feel the tension in the room. Harry looks at him and then back at me.

"So, you aren't going to say anything? You're just going to sit there and look at me."

"What's there to say? Obviously all of this is putting a damper on your image for the auror department. Obviously, like I am to everyone else, I'm the problem. I was just kicked out of my family, let's make it the theme for the night, eh?" I yell back and walk out of the living room and into my kitchen. I open up the cabinet where detergents and cleaning supplies should be kept and rustle through the shelves until I find what I was looking for.

I pull out the tequila bottle I had hidden and take a swig. Harry walks up behind me and turns me around, "Don't drink while you've done cocaine. Don't you know how much that can affect your heart?" He snatches the bottle out of my hands and forces me to look at him. "You have a problem, Ginny. You're not the girl I left behind."

"Really? News flash; I'm the exact same girl you left behind."

"If that were true, I would have seen it before. You're completely different."

I turn and slam the cabinet door, "Well, take a good look because this is the real me."

"If this is the real you, then I don't want a single part of it." He yells at me as I walk away. I stop and turn to look at him. He stands up straight, eyes intense.

"Say what you want to say, Harry."

"I don't want to be involved with you, if this is really how you are now." I blink at him, "Ginny, say something." He seems to be pleading as if he doesn't want to carry out his word.

I stare at him for a long while, it seems my mouth moves before I even think of what to say, "Then it seems you'll be disappointed."

His eyes widen in shock; obviously he didn't expect that answer. He shakes his head and puts his hands up in defeat, "Then I'm leaving." He takes a couple steps back and turns on his heel, tossing the baggie in the wastebasket, "We're done."

I stare at the space he stood not even ten minutes ago. That's it. I'm single. After six months of sitting here and waiting for him to come back; I'm single. I didn't even see him for an hour; but here I am, single.

I leave the kitchen, not able to stand the feeling I'm getting from it. I walk up the stairs to my bedroom, Baylor is lying on the bed; still shaking from fear. I take a seat on the side of my bed and rock back and forth. I've spent months worrying where he was, what he was doing, if he was safe or not, and he just throws it all away.

My eyes catch a photo that sits on the nightstand next to my bed. It's a picture Ron and Hermione took of us when I got off the train for Christmas break. I ran right into Harry's arms and he spun me around. Too bad that wasn't how our reunion was today. You know what happened today? The people who claimed to be my family and the person who claimed that they loved me left me out in the cold. I can't even look at that photo without a sudden feeling of hatred.

I stand up and pick it up, I know what he's whispering in my ear in this little captured moment. I know what he's promising to me. And I know I'm listening; believing him. That's it; I can't look at it any longer. I look up at the wall across the room; I wonder how strong it is….

Only one way to find out.

Before I know what is going on, that photo and the picture frame are in thousands of pieces on the ground across the room. There's now a small scuffmark on the wall.

I walk to my wardrobe and rustle through the clothing that hangs inside. Where is it? Where is it?

I finally find it; the flannel I stole from Harry way back when. Wow, I should have let Sarah throw it away way back in June. I rip the right sleeve off of it. Obviously, it's not worth anything to me now. I rip the other sleeve off. It's just a symbol of broken promises and a ruined relationship.

My ring gets caught on the ripped sleeve. Don't get me started on this bloody ring.

"_It's my promise to you that I love every part of you." _ Yeah, you love every part of me, unless it's a part that you don't _want _to love. I pull the ring off my pinky and stare at it for a moment. Bullshit. I chuck the ring across the room like I did with the picture. It feels great; purging myself of all of the people who don't care about me. Don't worry; it's reciprocated.

* * *

_17 January 2000_

I wake up with a splitting headache. What happened last night? I sit up in my bed and look around my room; it's completely in shambles. I guess I went a little nuts last night-wait, why did I go mad last night?

Oh, yeah.

I push the covers off of me and stretch my back. Where's Baylor? I stand and move out of my room.

"Baylor?" I call out, "Baylor, come here, boy." I glance around the hallway; he's not coming. My heart starts to panic a little bit.

I move down the stairwell and into my dining room; I see something furry under the table, "Baylor?" I crouch down, he's looking up at me and shaking. I think I remember him shaking last night, "Baylor, sweetie, come here." I say, reaching out my hand.

He stands up and slowly walks toward me. I gather him in my arms and sit back against the wall. I cuddle him in my embrace until I feel him stop shaking, "I'm sorry," I whisper, "I promise I won't scare you again."

I glance around my empty dining room. I need a drink.

* * *

"Hey, Gin, how did dinner at your parents go?" Sarah says, as I walk into the locker rooms.

I roll my eyes and turn to my locker, "Don't even know where to start."

* * *

_18 February 2000_

Wow, has time flown by.

It's been about a month since my life changed for the better. Sarah and I are closer than ever; Joan and I have kind of stopped talking. I guess I should fill you in on what's happening in my life. Living without the burden of worrying about a group of people has been great. I feel free; free of any worries or responsibilities.

About three weeks ago, most of the team and I had a falling out. Well, I wouldn't say 'fall out' because we still have to see each other almost everyday. But, like I said before, Joan and I have stopped talking. I don't really know what I did to offend her, but I did something. Sarah is the only player who still talks to me, which I'm grateful that I have at least one true friend; a friend that I can be who I am without being judged because she's the same way.

Because of all of these events, I've been able to really explore and test the waters. Sarah and Jess have introduced me to so many new things, and believe me, I'm in love with every single one. They keep telling me that I need to get laid; have a one-night stand. Maybe I should, but I haven't lost all control of myself yet.

Tonight, though, I decided to go to a party on my own. One of the guys I met at another party told me about it; said that he wanted to make a date out of it. Where is he now? I don't know; I ditched him. When he said he wanted to make a date out of it, I didn't realize he meant an actual date. I'm not in the mood to date anyone.

So, now the lights are low, the music is loud, and the only thing I know for sure is that I'm on my third drink, maybe fourth. Now, I'm not drunk, as you would say; I'm more loosened up. All around me there are guys hollering and girls screaming, there are people smoking and others falling down from their high.

And here I am, dancing with this guy. What's his name? Ben. Ben something. His arms are tight around my waist and he's staring at me with his unfocused eyes. I take another swig from my plastic cup and press myself further into him. He smirks at me with a cocky grin plastered on his face. I run my hands through his dark brown hair and he groans. I giggle. I feel giggly right now.

A man comes around the doorway and yells something to Ben; I think it's a cheer. Damn straight; he should be cheered on, somehow he got me in his arms. His breath smells like cheap liquor; which I'm sure is the equivalent to what mine smells like.

I can feel the blisters on my feet grow with every sway we make, and to be honest, I feel sort of wild, randy even.

"Can we go sit down somewhere?" I ask through the blasting music.

"Depends, why?" He asks. I roll my eyes.

"Just come with me." I reply, taking his hand and maneuvering through the crowd. I gulp down the last of my drink and throw the empty cup on the floor. He sits down on the old, piano bench and I take a seat on his lap. Why? I have no clue, maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the knifing part of my brain.

"Are you going to dance for me?" He asks. I giggle.

"No, but—" I say before pulling his booze-smelling lips to mine. We kiss hard and long. He smells good, like lemon, grass and broomstick polish. I move my hand to his cheek on his slight stubble, and run my other hand through his unruly, knotted hair. I taste the slight essence of firewhiskey on his lips and I smile. I cock my head to the other side and through my delusional fog, I feel him play with the ends of my hair, in a way it edges me on and I kiss him harder. His tongue parts my mouth and he explores my mouth. I decide that I should too. I spell my name in cursive around his tongue. The kiss is turning more and more passionate. His hand moves to my thigh while the other stays on my back. My arms are still wrapped around his neck.

But then the room turns silent. Our kiss starts to fall from its glory and we slow down and pull apart.

"What's going—" Ben starts, but I don't hear what he says next. Three aurors are at the door of the room. Two of them stick out to me; Ron and Harry. Even me in my drunken state, feels embarrassed. Ron stares at me with disgust radiating from his eyes. I stand up. When did he become an auror?

"We got a noise complaint. And have found probable cause to search every room for illegal drugs and substances. Everyone stand up and stay where you are." The brunette man says, "Weasley, Potter, search the room."

Ron's gaze stays on me for another minute or so before diverting to the other side of the room. I cross my arms to hide the cleavage this dress shows. Harry has already started moving pillows on the couches and throwing all the little baggies on the ground in the middle of the room.

I look down at the ground and move my hand to the back of my neck. My mind starts to sober and I feel an embarrassing blush start to rise. But, I shouldn't feel this way. He broke up with me, he smashed my heart in two; I should hate him, yet here I am dripping in embarrassment because he caught me kissing another man.

I stare at the baggies on the ground, some are filled with marijuana and some with cocaine; I hadn't done anything tonight but drink, so I knew I was safe from getting arrested. Ben nervously looks at me. I guess that means he did something before we started dancing together. Maybe one of those baggies are his, but I don't care; if he thinks I'm going to help him, he's giving his hopes up. He's nothing but a little fling to me.

A man clearing his throat breaks my thoughts; I look up and am met with Harry looking at me in an unusual way.

"Excuse me, but I need to search the chest behind you." He says in the most professional, most foreign way possible. With no recognition or emotion at all. As if all those late night talks about getting married and the names of our kids never happened. As if we didn't know each other at all. As if I'm just a block in the way of the sidewalk. I nod and move to the side. I glance up and Ron is looking at me again, with betrayal or anger, I don't know.

"Gather these up, boys." The other auror says to Harry and Ron, he then turns to the rest of us, "An anti-disapparation charm has been placed on this house and the floo chambers are closed; you all will be kept here until arrests have been made."

I look around at the people in the room. I can already tell who's guilty and who's innocent. I guess this means they're going to be testing us like Maurice tests me every so often.

The three leave the room and silence envelopes. I sit back down on the piano bench and lean on my hands with my elbows on my knees. I can already imagine what is going to happen when Ron tells the family about this incident. I can see my dad shaking his head with shame, I can see my mum's eyes filling with tears of frustration, and most importantly I can see everyone accepting my absence from the family.

Ron comes back in with Harry by his side, he has a large bottle of potion and a stack of cups. He walks to the man closest to the door and pours some of the potion into one of the cups, "Show your wand." Ron says, firmly.

The man reluctantly pulls his wand out of his pocket and holds it to Ron and Harry. Harry takes the wand and taps the parchment he has in his hand.

"Caleb Hemsway." He mutters to Ron, he transfers Caleb's wand to his other hand and pulls out a quill out of his wand holster.

"Gurgle this and then spit it back." Ron directs. He does what he's told and hands the cup back to Ron. It takes a second but after surveying the potion, he turns to Harry, "Clean." Harry nods and scribbles something down on the parchment.

They move to the girl standing beside her, Harry taps her wand like he did with Caleb, "Victoria Berk."

"Clean."

"Joshua Minn."

"Looks like we have a guilty one." Joshua tenses up and I watch as Harry scribbles something down and then grabs his arm. He forcefully turns Joshua around and binds his hands behind his back. Harry pushes him down so that Joshua is now sitting on the bench across the room.

They're not going to throw him in jail or anything like that, but there is a fine and an interrogation about who the dealer is, well, I mean, that's what I've heard.

"Gabriella Oliver."

"Clean."

They walk to Ben, he looks at me with fear, I look to the floor not offering him any support, "Benjamin Hagers." Harry says after tapping Ben's wand to the parchment.

"Clean." Ron's voice sounds after testing Ben. He looks almost surprised by his verdict. Then, the boys turn to me.

"Show your wand." Harry says, staring at his clipboard. I take my wand from the holster that's built into the side of the cocktail dress I'm wearing. I reluctantly, more like sheepishly, place the wand into his outstretched hand and immediately cross my arms over my chest again.

"Ginevra Weasley." Harry mutters writing down onto the parchment, as if he didn't know my name before he tapped the wand to the paper.

"Gurgle this and spit it back." Ron shoves the paper cup into my hands; his eyes are still pretty dark. I do just that, and give him the paper cup. The next thirty seconds feel like the longest in my life. I haven't done anything that would make them bind my hands behind my back and sit me next to Joshua, but I still can't help but feel nervous as I watch my brother study my fate inside a small, paper cup.

My heart wells with the words, "Clean."

* * *

Everyone who was not bound was freed to leave. Luckily, I was one of those few witches and wizards who didn't have to sit with their hands behind them. More aurors had shown up, I guess the drug findings were more than expected causing more aurors to need to join them. I don't try to hang around long, for one I feel as though Ron would appreciate me hanging around if it meant he had a go at me.

I walk through the empty rooms trying to find my jacket. I know I came in here with it on and the last thing I want to do is go into the room where the detainees are.

I search and search. Still no sign of my black, leather jacket anywhere. Maybe I should give up; I can get another jacket, no big deal. I walk out through the front door and almost make it to the apparation site, just outside of the gate but,

"Hey! Hey, Ginny!" I turn around probably too suddenly, I think in the back of my mind I was hoping it would be Harry, but it wasn't. Ben. I turn around again, walking toward the apparation site; I don't even want to look at that kid. "Ginny!" He grabs my shoulder and spins me around.

"What?" I snap.

"You're not just going to leave me hanging, are you?" I could tell that he had sobered up by now; his eyes were focused on me, and his lopsided grin wasn't as goofy as it was before.

"I don't know what you mean by that." I cross my arms and look away from him; clearly giving him the signs that I want to be left alone.

"I think you do." He grabs onto my elbow and places his other hand on my shoulder, "How about I take you home? Make sure you're tucked in all nice and tidy."

I jerk out of his grasp but he reaches again, I take a few steps back but he follows my lead, "Leave me alone."

"Why? You can't just let me alone."

"Go away." He grabs both of my shoulders, "Stop!"

"Hey!" A voice yells out from behind us. I turn around and see Harry in the doorway of the house "Is there a problem here?"

"No, sir," Ben says, in a stuck up manner, "You don't have to worry about us."

"Is that true, ma'am?" Harry's eyes are intense on me. I shake my head. He walks to us and grabs Ben by the upper arm and pushes him toward the house, "You can leave; she'll be taken care of, thank you very much."

Ben's eyes flicker to me and then back to Harry, he obviously doesn't know who exactly this auror is, "Fine, then. If you change your mind, Ginny, you know where to find me."

Obviously, he was talking out of his arse. I watch as he goes back into the house and then glance at Harry.

"I think this belongs to you." He says, a black, leather jacket swinging from his hand.

"Thank you." I say, quickly zipping it on to cover my shoulders and cleavage.

"Do you need someone to escort you home?" His eyes connect with mine. I search them for a second, trying to find something I know won't be there.

"I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" He glances at me up and down as if he's not exactly sure what's going on with me. Trust me, I'm not sure either.

"Yeah."

"Alright. Have a good night." He says, turning on his heel and walking back into the house.

"To you, too."

**A/N: BIIGGG plot event in this chapter, I know, I know most people probably will stop reading after this and that's okay. But if you plan on tuning in for the next chapter, YAY can't wait to see you next post. Please tell me if you love it or hate it, I actually DO read every review, negative and positive and take what you say into account (either making mental notes along the way and clarifying things that weren't as clear before) Thanks again for reading, PM me if you want to get insight on my upcoming plans for GWFTR!**


	14. Chapter 14: Poppy Seed Bagels

**A/N: IQL stands for International Quidditch League**

_30 March 2000_

_"What a plot twist in events! For months we have been following as Ginny Weasley involved herself with none other than our war hero, Harry Potter, but it seems that we haven't been following as closely as we had hoped. Just yesterday eyewitnesses and reporters watched as Harry Potter walked, linking arms with a different Quidditch player, Christina Gordon. The two were seen cuddling up next to each other, as they walked through London shops. But, weren't we all completely sure that Ginny Weasley was the one who Potter had given his heart to? Weasley had even confirmed it in an interview with us, so, what happened? The two haven't been seen together in over seven months, which indicates a possibly dissolved relationship. No comment has been made by Weasley on the events of this sudden split..."_

Crunch. The paper crinkles into a ball in my hand as I sit in my kitchen reading the latest _Witch Weekly._

Christina Gordon.

How in the world did he even meet her let alone start to date her? He only got back from wherever he was-what-four months ago? Where would they have met? A bar? An event at the Ministry?

Above all, how dare he go after someone who I go up against on a day-to-day basis! Didn't he know about our bubbling rivalry toward one another? Oh wait, that's right; he probably didn't, being that he was away for most of my career.

Throughout my time on this job we have been put head-to-head in the papers, magazines, matches, sales, everything. I was voted _'Sexiest Professional Quidditch Witch'_ in the annual review of _Witch Weekly, _guess who was put as number two? I had been ranked twentieth at the latest physical clinic, and guess who was ranked nineteenth? In the match against the Pride, we were publically indicated as the top-two fiercest competitors. So, why does Harry think that it's okay to go and snoodle with the enemy? _My _enemy?

I throw the magazine into the wastebasket full force. You know what, good riddance to him. I have practice to go to, and you can bet that I'm going to be airing out some of my anger into the goals. Hopefully, Cecilia is up for a little bit of a rough practice.

Still, though, what gives him the right to go after _another _Quidditch player? I know, I know; he made it quite clear that we were over, but to break up with me and then go after someone that has been publicized as my number one competitor? That's like dumping someone and then hooking up with their sister. It's just not right.

And it's so out of character for Harry. What did I do to piss him off _so _much that he can drop me and go to someone else in the span of three months?

I grab my gym bag and sling it over my shoulder to floo to the Pitch. Luckily, with my new house-actually, it isn't that new since I've lived here for about five months-I have the privilege of flooing straight to the Pitch instead of walking like the other girls.

As I walk down the corridors of the Pitch I can hear my every footstep accompanied by the little voice in my head trying to figure out when we go against Pride of Portree next and how exactly I'll knock Gordon off of her broom. Okay, maybe I won't do that-just knock a couple teeth out of her stuck-up, little mouth.

I turn the corner and see that Tony is talking to one of the security managers of the Pitch. I haven't spoken to him in a couple months. There's no need now that I can floo to the Pitch on my own and only need him to bring me to events. He glances at me and then starts talking to the security manager again, it seems they're talking about how they want to regulate fans during the playoff season.

Playoffs.

Great, more pressure and more stress on the team. I suspect that Gwenog will be keeping us back, maybe even making us come in early now. That's fine with me, less time I have to deal with other things.

Our first playoff game is on the nineteenth of April against the Montrose Magpies; probably will be an easy win. The next game is determined by the winner of the Kenmore Kestrals versus the Wigtown Wanderers match that's happening in a couple of days. That's a tough one to predict; both teams are decent and the game could go either way. Luckily, we had beaten both of them in the regular season, so it shouldn't be so hard to go against them in the playoff season, right?

I push open the locker room door and immediately hear the ruckus go silent. As I walk to the door, labeled _Ginevra Weasley _in gold, I can literally feel the eyes on me. Remember when I said that _most _of the girls and I had a falling out, well, I'm updating that statement to _all _of the girls and I had a falling out.

To be honest, I don't really know what I did, or what I said, that made them cut all contact with me. Maybe they're just jealous that I've been ranked higher, been promoted faster, even been paid more than them and it's only my first season. Steve and Lisa have told me that this is what happens when there is new talent on the team that has been absent for a very long time; the players who were once comfortable with mediocrity turn sour with jealousy. Or maybe even with extreme envy. Same thing.

Gwen seems to be the only one who wants me on the team anymore-at least someone here has a brain. But, yet, all she cares about is winning; and the team can't win without me.

I dress at my usual pace. I know that all the glances and looks from the others are supposed to run me out, but I'm secure. You think that a couple of looks can run me off? Newsflash; that's all I would get from my roommates at Hogwarts; I never was friends with the girls in my year-except Luna, of course.

Speaking of which, the DA and I have seemed to cut contact with each other as well. Makes sense; Harry, Ron and Hermione are a part of it and around them more often; I can see them convincing the others of my 'new attitude'-whatever the hell that means.

The girls all leave me in peace as they scurry from the room together like a group of thirteen year olds. That's okay; more time to my thoughts.

* * *

Cracking my back I go to the broom cupboard to take out my polished broom and head to the pitch before being interrupted by none other than Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum.

"Ginny! Ginny!" Steve calls out from the other end of the corridor.

"What?" I ask, turning around to face him and Lisa approaching.

"We have come to inform you of another event we need you to go to." He says, glancing to his partner. I wonder if his wife knows that he's been sleeping with Lisa for the past year or so. That was news to me; I could only imagine what it would be to her.

I roll my eyes, "Fine, what event?"

"Well, it's in a month; after the match, of course." Lisa says, scanning over the clipboard in her hand.

"What is it for?"

"Oh, it's a charity dinner; much like the auctions you've gone to, but this is for children who don't have enough money to go to school."

"And why do _I _have to go?"

"Because," Lisa starts, shocked that I wouldn't want to go to this stupid dinner, "you're one of the biggest influences in the entire wizarding entertainment industry; who else would be fit to go?"

"Fine. Have you let Alexis know? Or do I have to do that myself?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder at the field to see if practice has officially started yet.

"Of course, we have let her known. She is already prepping your dress. Now, go on and practice your Quidditch, Ginny, we can't have the Harpies losing in the first round of the playoffs, can we?"

* * *

_19 April 2000_

_ "And welcome one and all to the first round of the 1999 to 2000 Quidditch Season Playoffs! My name is Logan Murray and I'll be the commentator for this match! Today we will watch a fearsome battle between the Montrose Magpies and the Holyhead Harpies. The Magpies, as most may know, ended the season off with a seven-five win-lose streak, and the Harpies ended with a nine-three. Today, both teams are fully equipped with no injuries and no reserves taking the field."_

Gwenog and the rest of us fly out onto the field to begin our warm ups, as usual. Luckily, the first round of the playoffs is at our home pitch. That's always a good thing; home advantage.

We fly around the field a couple of times. I can't help but watch the crowd, look at the vendors, peak into the six out of seven filled family boxes-Oh...yeah.

_"Now, we'd like to welcome Mr. Dodgy Graham who will be the official for tonight's game." _

"Welcome! Every Witch and Wizard here today is lucky to see a fine game," He pauses, I assume for a drama effect, "between the Magpies and the Harpies. Please, captains, come to the center."

Like usual, Gwenog goes and meets the opposing captain in the center of the field to shake hands and promise a clean game between them. They fly back up to their designated positions and the official, dressed in white, blabs on some more before finally releasing the balls and declaring that the match has finally begun.

* * *

The music is loud; you can literally feel the bass vibrating in the floor. I guess I've always thought the clubs like these were just made up; that none of them really existed, but obviously, I was mistaken. Here I am, out here on a dance floor at a club in downtown celebrating the win with a group of girls I don't even know. They say you shouldn't go to a club alone-oh well.

"Ginny!" I turn around and there are a couple of guys I met at a house party not too long ago.

"Hey!" I say, walking to them, "How are you two doing?" If you're wondering, no, absolutely nothing happened between them and me. I can say in my full confidence that I am definitely _not their type. _

"Great, but probably not as good as you; heard your team won tonight!" One says in his feminine-like voice.

"Yeah, I did!" I say, glancing down at their locked hands, "So, I thought why not go and party tonight in celebration?"

"Well, I think that a victory should require partying afterward." He smiles down before bending forward to whisper in my ear, "One of the room back there has some great stuff, want to get in on it?"

I smile, knowingly, "Why, of course I do." I say, taking a swig of the firewhiskey that's in my hand. I follow the two men to the back room where there are groups of people clinging around different areas and corners of the smoky room.

"You first?" He asks, nodding to me. A smile flickers upon my lips and I take a seat on the leather couch. The two sit beside me laughing as I pull out a straw from the box and examine it to be sure it isn't used-hey, I'm a professional Quidditch player; can't be getting sick here.

One of my friends line up the white powder with a side of an old envelope. I can hear people chanting around me as I finish up the line and wipe my nose.

"I think I could do another line." I laugh, as they put out more for me.

* * *

_20 April 2000_

_ Knock. Knock._

What? What's going on? Wait, what time is it?

_Knock. Knock._

That's my front door, isn't it? I groggily rub my face and puff out an irritated, tired breath.

_Knock. Knock._

"Alright! I'm coming!" I groan out, putting my robe on and leaving my bedroom. I slump down the stairs and glance at the clock. Seven o'clock; who would be knocking on my door so early?

I pause at the mirror by the foyer of my house to check my appearance; I look like I just crawled out of a bed that was made of turning tables. Patting my hair down, I continue to the front door and swing it open.

Oh, shite.

"Hello, Ms. Weasley; mind if I come in and do the routine check ups?" Maurice says, with his jolly tone and potion in hand. I literally feel my stomach collapse; this is not good.

I step to the side, and he waltzes into the room, a smile present on his face. It's obvious that he has no idea what he's about to find. Why in the hell does he have to come today?

_Well, you did sign a contract, Ginny. The contract clearly stated that you will undergo Drug and Alcohol checks at random times. You should have known that when you were out last night; I mean, come on; you haven't been checked in over a month._

"Do you mind if we do this in the kitchen?" Maurice asks, gesturing to the bottle in his hands. I shakily nod. I follow the pudgy man to my kitchen where I know my fate rests. He places the bottle onto the counter in the center of the large room, and starts to set up his clipboard.

I feel like my legs are going to collapse under me between the huge hangover I'm recovering from and the idea that everything I've worked for is about to just go down the loo.

"Ms. Weasley, would you please sit down?" He gestures to the chair across from him.

"Sure." I mumble, slowly walking-scratch that, stumbling to the chair. My mind starts to go wild; is there any excuse I can make? Is there anyway I can get out of this?

_You ate a lot of poppy seed bagels-no, that wouldn't work. There's probably a small tolerance window for that kind of stuff, plus I'm sure no amount of poppy seed bagels will come close to what I did last night._

_You have a cold and just took some of the cold medication the healers gave you-no; he'd go to the healers for verification for that._

"Please, hold out your hand so I may prick your finger." I try my hardest to not let my hand shake as I slowly reach it out toward his awaiting, thin needle. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel the tiny poke and the pressure he applies to squeeze out that one drop of blood to test. "There." He says in satisfaction, but my heart sinks.

The next thirty seconds are the longest thirty seconds in the history of thirty seconds. I can't even watch him as he stares and surveys the paper cup in front of him. My brain is literally pounding against my skull and my heart is practicing its boxing skills behind my ribs. What's going to happen? Am I going to lose my job? What will Gwenog say when she hears the news? What will my parents say when they hear the news—no, Ginny, who cares what they'd say if they hear the news. _They_ dumped _you_, remember?

_Ginny Weasley: Done Before She Even Started. _I hear the upcoming magazine and scandal sheet headlines coming into play. _Ginny Weasley and Damn It I Shouldn't Have Eaten Those Poppy Seed Bagels. _

"Ms. Weasley." A voice breaks. I hesitantly look up at him; his usually jolly face isn't jolly. Not a good sign. "I'm sorry to inform you, but you've just failed the test." I can literally feel the blood drain from my face. I watch as he shakes his head and starts to scribble on his clipboard. "I need to do a second test for verification."

He takes out another sterile, paper cup and pours the clear potion into it. He tells me to hold out my other hand now and pricks it. It doesn't matter anymore; I failed. A second test won't change that.

"Ms. Weasley, it's with my genuine condolences to inform you that you are hereby benched for the rest of the season." I feel like I just got punched in the chest, "I will be informing the captain, and the staff of your entourage. You will be allowed to sit in on practices and watch the games, home and away. You are permitted to take part in press conferences, and publicity events. You are permitted to attend photo shoots, interviews, and the like. However, you are not permitted to play any sort of Quidditch at a Holyhead, or IQL, sanctioned event. You are not allowed to practice the sport with the team until your suspension is up. Is there any questions you will like to ask?"

I feel the hot tears in my eyes. I bit on my lower lip to prevent it from trembling and shake my head, "I'm sorry, Ginny." He says, shaking his head in shame.

I've really mucked it up, now.

* * *

"You are kidding me, right?" She screeches, "Kidding me!"

I wince at her volume. I've never seen Gwenog so riled up before, and I never imagined it would be directed at me and me alone. Only two hours ago, she was informed of my suspension on the terms of breaking the forty-eight hour rule.

"I am appalled at you, Ginny! I've put so much time and energy into you! We've been practicing so hard for playoffs and you just waste it all away, huh!" I chance a glance up at her and see that her face is boiling red, "You let your team down. I hope you're happy with that."

I have no words. I don't even know what to think at the moment. I did let the team down and to be honest, I wish it was Sarah sitting right here in this chair and that _I _am out on the field doing all those crazy warm ups Gwen created.

"I'm sorry." I say, softly. My voice is shaking, my hands are shaking-everything is shaking.

"Don't apologize to me; I don't even want to hear it. You should be apologizing to the girls; they only have given up so much of their time to try to make it to the championship. They honestly thought this year would be the year. Now, we have to put a reserve in for you. Someone who's been out of sync with the team for over a season because we invested in you."

I take a deep breath to calm myself down; I'm not crying but I feel like I'm going to throw up from the intensity in this small office.

"I expect you at every practice, taking notes. I expect you in the gym with Xavier twice as much as you are already routinely doing. You will come to every match and take notes on what the team needs to improve on."

"Yes, ma'am."

"But, I don't want you to come to this practice." I look up at her, "I honestly can't be in the same facility as you. Now, go home, Ginny; you've done enough damage here."

* * *

_26 April 2000_

So, that's what I did. I went home that day and finally let myself cry. I've never been so angry with myself until that day. But, after that, I did everything Gwenog told me to do; I came to every practice, and I trained harder with Xavier than I had in the past. The next playoff game isn't until the beginning of May, and I'm anxious over what the outcome will be.

In a way, as horrible as this sounds; I kind of want us to lose. It'll just prove that I'm vital to the team. Maybe it'll help me stay on the team longer if they know I'm the one who truly gave us those wins in the regular season.

I sit at my kitchen table, staring at the cover of _Witch Weekly; _It sucks to know that this is how I'm staying 'in touch' with everyone. The headline for this week's issue is _"That's Not the Girl I Raised!" _I'm sure you can guess whom it's about.

_"As most know, there has been a scandal within Holyhead; Ginny Weasley has been suspended on the terms of drug and alcohol abuse. But, has anyone wanted to know what her family has to say; or at the very least, her father? As Arthur Weasley, Deputy Minister for the Ministry of Magic, walked down the streets of Diagon Alley with his wife, Molly, we decided to approach him and ask one main question; what is going on with Ginny? He replied with a very blunt, almost angry, statement; 'That's not the girl I raised!' Weasley wouldn't supply any more answers to questions asked by any reporter, but most have said that tensions seemed to rise from the couple as reporters after reporters demanded for opinions on their daughter's recent behavior…"_

I roll my eyes as I read each word. Not the daughter you raised? That's interesting to hear since I _am _the daughter you raised. Looks like you mucked up somewhere. I watch as my parents walk in and out of the frame of the picture displayed on the front of the magazine. Why do they even care about what I do? I mean, no one has written to be since that bloody dinner; they don't have the authority to give their opinion about what I've done.

No one should be allowed to give his or her opinion on what I've done. They don't know what it's like to be publically humiliated over one stupid party. And since then, I've tried to stop, honestly. But, temptation is a sneaky thing; even I can't overcome it.

Today is that stupid event Steve and Lisa signed me up for. What was it again? Oh, that's right; the childhood benefit dinner thing. For those little kids who can't afford whatever.

Don't judge my harshness; I was there at one point, yet, strangely enough, I don't remember people raising money to help_ me_ out. Alexis had silently dropped off my dress, with a note that she'll be back to do my makeup in a couple of hours and that I shouldn't put my dress on until after that.

I pour some food in Baylor's bowl before heading upstairs to take a shower and get ready for the event. But, seriously, though, what does he even mean by that? Not the daughter he raised? So, does that mean I'm not a part of the family anymore, officially? I lather the shampoo into my hair. I'm just living my life and having a little fun. Letting my hair down, as many would say. They're the ones who overreacted.

I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me, before going to the sink to start brushing my teeth and what not. I have nothing to be ashamed about; everyone has ups and downs and I don't even consider this a down. I have a beautiful roof over my head, a nice paycheck coming every two weeks, and a glamorous job. I'm happy.

* * *

I walk across the red carpet, only posing for pictures a few times, before entering the dinner hall. I only answered one question as soon as I had stepped onto the velvet.

"Ginny, what do you think about your father's recent statement?"

Not meaning to say it out loud of course, I mumble, "I don't care what he says."

Unfortunately the reporters heard me.

After that, I'm not up to talk to any reporters. Entering the grand hall, I notice that no one is looking at me; everyone is talking in their own separate conversations, standing in tiny group filling the room, mingling. That's something that I wanted to see.

First, I decide to go find my seat maybe put my bag down before going to the buffet and picking out my food. I skim through the seats, reading the nametags that are in front of each one. I survey a few tables before I find the nametag with the scroll reading, '_Ginevra Weasley_'. I really should change that name.

I glance around the table to see whom I will be sitting with; luckily, I don't know anyone here, and none of them are Christina or Harry. Or my parents.

"Hello, Miss." A voice breaks behind me. I turn around and see a man with long, shoulder length, curly hair, and a scruffy beard. He's wearing very appealing dress robes and a goofy smile.

"Hello," I greet, gesturing for his name.

"Russell; Russell Fairway." He smiles at me before taking a sip of his scotch.

"Oh, nice to meet you." I say, holding out my hand to shake his, but he grabs my wrist and bends down to kiss my hand, "I'm-"

"Ginny Weasley; no need to introduce yourself." He has a very mysterious feel to him, "I must say, you are a very talented Quidditch player; and when I saw that you'll be sitting next to me, I just knew I had to talk to you."

I flash a polite smile, "If you're going to ask me about-"

"Oh, no, Miss Weasley; I'm not in the mood to talk about scandals or controversies. I've had quite a few myself and I would rather not exploit yours."

"You've had some?"

"Well, some people say my jokes are a bit racy-I'm a comedian." He sets his scotch down at his seat and pulls out the chair for me. I graciously sit down and watch as he sits down next to me as well. "Can't even begin to tell you how many people I've offended."

I lean back in my chair and shake my head, "I don't understand how people can get so offended by satire; my brothers own a joke shop. I understand how people can be when it comes to jokes and the like."

"Oh, that's right; Weasley Wizard Wheezes, right?" I nod with a short smile, "I've heard of them, but unfortunately, have never been."

"Well, it's more for kids and teenagers. I'm sure you're above it all."

"So, how do you like Holyhead so far? I mean, you didn't grow up here, correct?"

I smile, is he trying to flirt with me or just making small talk to be polite, "No; I grew up in Ottery St. Catchpole; it's a small town in the outskirts of Devon. It's completely different than Holyhead. I think I like Holyhead a bit more than it; there's more people, more things to do, more shops to go to." I nod, playing with the napkin in front of me, "How about you; where did you grow up?"

"Muggle Essex. I'm a half blood."

"I've never been there before; this is the first time that I really get to see the world."

"Oh, I know all too well. My family didn't have enough money to travel to exotic places, so once I got my first paycheck, I cashed it to go somewhere amazing. Maybe an island of sorts." I smile. "You should visit Essex, it's a pretty cool place to go to."

"Excuse me, witches and wizards." An older man says up on the platform, "the benefit concert will be starting in about five minutes; so find your seats and food will be presented shortly."

I glance to Russell who's smiling at me. I smile back, "I can't wait for the food; I've heard it's usually really good."

"Trust me, it is; or at least it has been in the past years."

* * *

"I just can't believe they got her to sing." I laugh as we walk out of the grand hall where the benefit dinner took place. "I mean, maybe she was nervous but the girl couldn't carry a tune."

"She sounded like a garden gnome up there." Russell jokes as he shakes his head, "Do you need me to walk you home?"

"Oh, no; my bodyguard, Tony, is here to do that." I say, gesturing to the large man who's waiting by the window.

"Okay," He says, glancing up and then back down to me, "I really had fun, you know, spending the dinner with you."

I smile, a blush rising on my cheeks, "Yeah, I did, too."

"Here," He says conjuring a small piece of parchment and a trimmed quill, "Here is where you can floo call me. I'd like to hear from you again." He hands me the scrap, "Maybe we could go get drinks or you could come to one of my shows."

My face flushes as I realize he's asking me out. I smile down at the paper, "Yeah, I'll call you."

"Have a nice night, Miss Weasley." He bows for affect. I roll my eyes and giggle at his forced gentleman-like behavior.

"You too, Mr. Fairway." I curtsey to play along with his jokes.

I watch as he starts to walk down the street away from the theatre. Do I even like him? Kind of—maybe-if I tried? I should jump on the opportunity. Harry has a girlfriend now; I should be getting a bloke too.

"Are you ready, Miss Weasley?" Tony says, walking up to my side. I glance up at him.

"Yeah." I start for the door with Tony at my heel. Gosh, I'm exhausted.

**A/N: So, another big plot event took place. I know, most of you hate it. I've tried to take in your reviews and PMs into my writing, but I do already have a plan for this story and you may PM me if you want any incite. So, please review what you think where you stand at the moment with the story. I tried to show more of Ginny's thoughts in this story; show you how her mind is working. Love it or hate it? Anything you want me to clear up in the upcoming chapters? Any interactions you want to see? Let me know!**


	15. Chapter 15: Anniversary

_29 April 2000_

_Dear _Ginevra Weasley_, _

_We cordially invite you and a guest of your choice to attend the annual Ministry ball in celebration for the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Two years ago, on the second of May, many brave witches and wizards lost their lives fighting for equality and freedom. Many more were injured and affected by the loss of others. It is our duty to honor each and every person who took part in this historical event. _

_ The ball will start at eight o'clock in the Grand Theatre of the Ministry; address below. We discourage the use of the floo system as travel to and from the event. Food will be served including a desert and a presentation to honor those who gave up their lives to help us succeed. _

_ There will be a security check at the entrance of the Ministry and the theatre; so, please travel with few items._

_ We hope you can join us to celebrate our war heroes and heroines. _

Should I go, or should I not? That's the question of the hour. I mean, it's a ball to honor what I did for the Wizarding World and what people, like Fred, Tonks, Remus and others, gave up in order to protect the ones they loved.

But, I'm completely sure my family will be there, and Harry, most definitely, will be invited. Can I be in the same room as them and not make a complete arse of myself? Plus, who would I bring? I wouldn't want to show up alone; especially if Harry would be there with Christina.

Plus, the ball is in three days; would that be too short notice for Alexis to get my dress in order? Too short of notice to tell Gwenog that I won't be in to watch practice? That should go over nicely.

I mean, I shouldn't let the presence of my family or my ex-boyfriend get in the way of celebrating the victory over the Death Eaters. They shouldn't be the ones to make me feel like I should stay in my home. No; I'm not going to let that happen. But, at the same time, they deserve to enjoy the night just as much as I do. If I show up, that would put a damper on their fun and-what am I saying? Who cares if I put a damper on their fun? They are the ones who threw me out in the cold; they should watch while I live my life happily without them.

But, again, who would I bring with me? Who can I ask on such short notice?

* * *

_30 April 2000_

I feel a tiny fist knock on my forehead-Ugh; that would be my alarm clock. I don't know why I thought it'd be a good idea to buy such a frivolous toy. I wake up and see the tiny, wooden pixy over my face, and before I can even blink, he flies over to Baylor, who's asleep on the other pillow and starts harassing my little, baby boy.

"Hey, hey," I hit the little figurine, "he gets the point." The pixy finally flies back over to the alarm clock and jumps into its little compartment on the side of the box. Note to self; throw that thing out.

"All right, Baylor; let's go get something to eat." I yawn. The young pup looks at me with tired eyes, and tries to go back to sleep. He's even harder to get up than I am in the mornings.

I push the covers over and start for the stairs. Just thinking about food makes me queasy; why should I even eat breakfast? It's not like I'm going to be participating in practice. I stroll into my kitchen and pull out the cereal and a glass bowl. Making my bowl of cereal, I glance over to the floor below the mail slot-Wow; ten minutes early.

I go to a drawer and pull out a spoon, tossing it into the bowl with the cereal and milk, before walking over to pick up the delivered mail.

_Fan mail, fan mail, fan mail, junk, junk, fan mail, Daily Prophet...junk, junk, mail to read, mail to read, ah, Witch Weekly. _

I skim through the pages of the new magazine-ah, found it. Shite. I wasn't sure if the reporters had actually heard what I said in reply to their questions at that charity dinner. In bright red letters, across the top of two pages read, "'_I don't care what he says!' replies an outraged Ginny Weasley_."

I don't think I was outraged; I literally mumbled it. Great; and now at the ball they're going to go after my parents asking them for a reply, and then they're going to come back to me and ask for a reaction and then they're going to go back to them and the cycle will continue until I'm officially disowned from the family-wouldn't be any different, really.

I go back to the mail in my hands, and pick out one of the letters addressed to me. I might as well read what whomever has to say to me.

_Ginny,_

_ I was recently invited to the Battle's anniversary ball and I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me. Unless you already have a date; I'm sure as a war hero yourself you were already invited as well. Let me know; you know where to floo me at. _

_ Russell Fairway_

_ Comedian from the charity dinner_

_ (In case you had forgotten)_

I laugh at the note at the bottom; it's only been four days and he thinks I'd have forgotten about the charity dinner.

Should I go with him? I mean, he seemed into me? Am I into him? Kind of. I haven't been in this situation in a very long time. This would take care of the date issue; it'll help me look less pathetic when compared to Harry and his new blonde girlfriend-which, with paparazzi there, is inevitable.

I set the letter down on the table and go back to my cereal that has been waiting for me. Russell is a great guy and I don't want to lead him on. Yet, I should go out with him; he may grow on me.

I sit and contemplate whether or not to go to this bloody celebration. On one hand, I know I _should_ go, on the other, I'm not sure if I _want _to go. I really should go, though. You know, I should go to honor the people I lost; Fred, especially. Yeah, I should. That's it; I'm going.

I pull out a piece of parchment and a quill and scribble out my reply. I guess I should go and floo Alexis; tell her to find a dress.

* * *

_2 May 2000_

"Wow," Russell says, as he lets Tony and me into his house, "you look great."

I smile, "Thanks." I notice Tony is eyeing him rather suspiciously-well, protecting me _is _his job. "Are you ready?" I ask, trying to make some sort of conversation.

"Yes; well, as ready as I'll ever be," He fixes the collar of his dress robes and glances at himself in the mirror, "I wasn't invited to the celebration last year, I hope I'm dressed up enough."

I survey his robes and nod, "That's how all the wizards looked last year; I think you're okay."

"Oh, that's right, I apologize; I forgot that you would've been at the one last year." I try to keep my smile as genuine as possible; today, well, isn't one of my favorite days to go out in public. Especially to something that's reminding me of everything that had happened.

"Well, not by choice." I say, thinking about how tearful it was during last year's presentation. Russell holds out his arm for me to grab onto; I'm assuming so that we can apparate there.

"Allow me." Tony steps up to us and holds out his forearm for both of us to hold onto. I'm sure he isn't allowed to let me apparate alone with someone I met at a party-that's good, right? I mean, I have good security with me then, eh?

* * *

I grab onto Russell's arm as we walk through the main hall of the Ministry. It's been awhile since I've been in here. I notice different witches and wizards turning around and whispering to each other. I guess word has spread all over the Wizarding World about my little...incident.

"Names?" A large auror says as we approach the center of the Atrium where velvet ropes block off the hallway.

"Russell Fairway and Ginevra Weasley." Russell answers for me.

"Any outside dates?"

"No, sir." The man scans his clipboard and puts check marks by our names.

"Present your wands." I hold my wand out and he uses it for verification. "Alright, enjoy the night." He says, unclipping one of the velvet ropes and standing to the side to allow us to go through.

We walk along the red carpet until a line of people stops us. I guess the theatre isn't open yet. Russell turns to me and gives me a small smile; I reciprocate it. We had gotten on so much easier at the Charity dinner; I wonder why it's different right now.

An elderly couple stop behind us, and I can't help but turn around and see if I know them.

"My, are you Arthur Weasley's daughter?" The man asks as soon as I turn my head.

"Um, yeah." I stutter for an answer.

"Oh, my apologies, you probably don't remember me," I furrow my eyebrows, "We met when you were around four or five. I worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, the name is Perkins; Peter Perkins."

"Oh, I'm sorry; of course you're Mr. Perkins. How's everything with your family? My dad told me that you had your first grandchild."

"Yes; my daughter had a baby boy, his name is Jefferson." He beams, "Actually, I have a photo." He pulls out a wallet from his dress robes and slides out a photo of a smiling baby around seven or eight months, watching sparks from a wand.

"He's adorable, how old is he now?"

"Eight and a half months." He puts the photo back, "How old is William's daughter now?"

"She has her first birthday...today, actually." My stomach drops.

"Oh that's right, I forgot that William and Fleur weren't here last year because they were at St. Mungo's."

I nod, as I remember Fleur having contractions at the Burrow and Bill making the decision that it'd be safer to go to the hospital at that moment than going to the ball. Ended up being the right decision after all; we had made it just in time; the ball had ended at about eleven o'clock, Victoire was born about half an hour later; making her our 'victory baby' by just half an hour. Haven't you always wondered where she got her name?

Perkins' voice breaks my thoughts, "Will you wish her a 'happy birthday' for me?"

"Oh, I-" But my heart stops beating for a second…

"Stop messing with your robes, you look fine." A high-pitched voice comes from behind Perkins' and his wife. I know that voice.

"I don't understand why this thing has to be so formal; I'd rather everyone be in jeans and a T-shirt."

"Well, next year, bring that up; this whole thing is for you, you know. Without you, who knows what the world would be like? Now stop fussing over everything, Harry, and just enjoy it."

I turn around; unintentionally ending my conversation with Perkins abruptly.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Russell whispers next to me.

"Oh, nothing," I look up at him, seeing his suspicious eyes, "I just realized I forgot something, but it's okay; not important."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I glance back and see a perky little blonde fixing the bangs of a tall, muscular yet spare, young man with messy, black hair and round glasses. I see Russell glance back in the same direction.

"So, are we sitting in the seats I'm assigned to or the seats you're assigned to?" I ask before he surveys the crowd too closely.

"It's up to you; which would you rather sit in?"

"Can we sit in yours?" He furrows his eyebrows at me; I guess he was surprised I didn't want to sit with my family.

"Sure."

The line in front of us starts to move, and I can tell Russell's attention is taken by his wonder of what the Grand Theatre looks like. Without even thinking about it, while feeling a pair of eyes watching the back of my head, I grab Russell's hand. He looks down at our now intertwined fingers and then looks back to me. I feel my face flush red, but, very smoothly, his mouth turns to an upward grin and he gives my hand a squeeze.

I decide that maybe I should be a little flirty; I flip my hair over my shoulder and look forward with as cute of a grin I think I can make. He lets out a small chuckle and lets go of my hand to wrap his arm around my waist. I didn't mean to be that flirty. I'm not one for public affection...especially with my ex right behind me.

We walk forward to the entrance of the theatre, where a lanky, young man greets us with a smile, "Good evening, may I ask for your names?"

"Russell Fairway and Ginevra Weasley." Russell answers, bowing his hand.

"And would you like to sit in your seats or Ms. Weasley's seats?"

"We would like to sit in mine, thank you." The man looks up from his clipboard, confused.

"Maybe I should inform you that you'll have a better view if you were to sit in the seats for Ms. Weasley." He glances at me and then back to Russell.

"We know; I'd just rather sit in his." I answer, as nonchalantly as possible.

"Alright, let me escort you." He gestures to the door before leading us into the theatre, leaving another man to escort Mr. and Mrs. Perkins.

We follow the man through the main aisle that separates the round tables into two, large groups. I keep my head down; I know how this is set up. At this very moment, My father and Kingsley are standing on the stage, probably talking, but watching the guests arrive and it would be surprising if my dad isn't watching me with my date.

The man gestures to a round table in the middle, right of the theatre. I nod my head, before walking to my seat, but before I could even lay a finger onto the chair, Russell's hand sneaks in from beside me and pulls it out for me. I glance at him and blush; it's been awhile since I've had a seat pulled out for me.

"May I?" He asks, nodding to my shawl. My mouth flinches to a smile, and he gently pulls the garment from my shoulders and hangs it onto the back of my seat. I take a seat and watch as he does the same.

I immediately take a sip of my water, feeling the discomfort that radiates from room. I take a chance to survey the people around me, I can see my family all standing near the front, mingling with different guests who approach them. Every so often I can see Bill glancing in my direction but I can never tell if his eyes land on me.

"Whoa, are those real photos from the battle?" Russell's voice breaks my thoughts. I follow his gaze up to the large screen hanging in the back of the stage. On it, a photo of people gathering in the Great Hall of Hogwarts covered in dirt and maybe a little blood. I recognize two of the people as Madame Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn taking care of an unknown man.

"Uh, yeah." I watch as the photo turns into a black swirl before turning into another photo of two people sitting on the steps of Hogwarts. I remember after the Battle was officially over, the Ministry had insisted that some reporters should go and gather as much information as possible before anyone left Hogwarts. While there, they had taken collections and collections of photos, some becoming more famous or more valuable than others. This photo of Luna and Neville sitting on the stairs was apart of one of the most famous of collections.

The photo turns into a black swirl again before changing into a different moving photo. My heart skips a beat. On the screen, a young, red-haired girl gets pulled into the embrace of a tall, dark-haired man with his back to the camera. I can feel Russell's eyes shift to me and I immediately grab the wine that the waiter puts in front of me. It's going to be a long night, I can already tell.

* * *

"...And thank you all, for joining us on this honorable night. May we keep those who were affected by the battle in our hearts and minds as we close our eyes tonight. Let us remember those who we lost and praise those who we have gained since then. I hope everyone makes it home safely, and has a peaceful night in honor of the events that took place exactly two years ago today. Thank you."

Kingsley ends the final speech of the night, dismissing us to go home, notifying us that this ball is over. I watch the room as the other guests bid their goodnights to each other and starts to leave the large, dance floor. I look to Russell who seems captivated by watching the rest of Dumbledore's Army talk amongst themselves.

"Ready to go?" I ask.

"Sure," He answers, changing his gaze to me, "Do you want to say goodbye to your friends?" He gestures to Seamus and Neville. I glance to them and then back to him, subtly shaking my head. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, um, I don't think they'd really want to talk to me at the moment." I glance to the floor and cross my arms, awkwardly.

"All right, well, if you're ready to go then." He gently suggests.

"Okay." I answer, starting for the exit of the theatre. He follows me out, probably confused by my desperate need to leave. I finally get out to the main Atrium of the Ministry where only a sparse number of guests are around, all, like us, leaving from a long, emotional night.

"Do you want to take a walk around London before we go back to Holyhead?" Russell asks as soon as he makes it to my side.

I glance up to him, his face shows a little concern, and my face flickers to a small smile, "Sure," I reply, "As long as we make it to Holyhead before it's too late."

"I promise I'll get you there before Gwenog Jones comes after you with a butcher knife." He jokes. He takes the lead, guiding me out of the main entrance to the streets of Muggle London. I'm sure many Muggles will give us strange looks since we're dressed in fancy attire for no apparent reason, in their minds, but I carry on, humoring Russell along the way.

He breaks the thick silence with a passing thought, "You know, for many years, I lived just outside of this city, but I don't think I ever walked the streets for my own enjoyment."

I nod, although I can't relate. "I see what you mean."

"Do you ever just walk the streets of Holyhead? I mean, in the little free time I assume you have."

I snort, what is this 'free time' he speaks of? The last time I had 'free time', I still went to Hogwarts, and usually, was nagged by Hermione that I should be studying for NEWTs not wasting my time on the Quidditch Pitch; that's what Quidditch practice was for, spending the little time I had out there would only hurt my test scores.

Of course, that didn't matter either way, seeing that my profession has nothing to do with how I did on my NEWTs. Or my OWLs.

"You know," He starts once more, "I wasn't sure why you were a little hesitant on going when you got to my flat. And then we got here and you seemed to hide further into your shell. I didn't want to assume anything, and I didn't want to apply what I read in the scandal sheets to your behavior. I was really confused, and I thought you didn't want any part of me there," I rub the back of my neck, waiting for him to say that we were done, or that he didn't want any part of me, "But, then that photo showed on display, and it all clicked. Ginny, you and Harry," He pauses as if he doesn't know if he should ask, "You were serious, weren't you?"

I bite my lip and look back to him. Mustering up enough courage to even form a thought, I take a deep breath, "Yeah."

"I'm sorry to hear that." His eyes show that he's genuinely sorry for me, and my heart starts to beat a little harder. "You know, I understand if you're uncom-"

"No, it's not that." I interrupt, "It's just that-well-it wasn't a pleasant break up. And seeing him with that girl just caught me off guard."

"I understand how that feels." He stops walking, "You know, I don't want to impose on you, especially if you're working through something."

"I'm not working through anything," I answer, "That was five months ago, and I'm honestly fine, and I'm ready to move on." He stares at me.

"Really?"

"I am."

His stare doesn't falter and he sighs. "You're a really special girl, Ginny; I'm sorry some people can't see that."

My stomach does a backflip. I haven't heard a single person say anything remotely like that in about eleven months, and I know that the voice that would say that to me before is otherwise occupied at the moment. Here I am, in front of a guy, who is implying that he might actually care for me, and I'm wanging on about my past relationship? Here I am comparing him to a figment of past memory? That's no fair to Russell, and that's not fair to me.

Letting my impulses get to me, letting my mind get into the moment, letting my rebellious side take hold of me, I stand onto my toes and pull his face to mine. my fingers disappearing into his shoulder-length, curly locks. His hands grab onto my elbows, yet he doesn't pull away.

I let my grip go slack and lean back onto my heels, pulling away from him. Um. Okay.

"Ginny," He asks, roughly, "Can we start seeing each other? I mean, officially?"

I gulp, and my mouth flickers into a grin that doesn't meet my eyes, "Of course." I glance over my shoulder and see Tony, with his arms crossed, watching me. He nods, letting me know it's time to go home.

* * *

_20 May, 2000_

"Oh, and Rose's Bludger almost knocked Silverstone off of her broom!" The commentator yells into his microphone. I roll my eyes at his need to make everything little thing dramatic.

"Come on, Harpies!" A man behind me screams at the top of his lungs, causing me to flinch. If this is what the VIP box is like, I can only imagine what the regular seats are like.

"Here; one bag of peanuts and one bottle of purified, crystal-clear water." Russell rattles off as he hands me the striped bag and the regular bottle of water.

"Thanks." I reply, allowing him to sit next to me.

"Anything big that I missed?" He asks, laying his arm across the back of my chair.

"Oh, nothing, really; just a couple of goals, but Harpies are still in the lead," I say, gesturing to the scoreboard, "obviously." He nods, and watches as Cecilia catches another Quaffle before it can go into the hoop behind her, "Want any?" I offer my bag of peanuts.

He takes a handful of shelled peanuts, "Sure, thanks."

I lean into his side as I watch my team and the temporary reserve play against the Kenmore Kestrals. At the moment, we're about ten points in the lead; not ideal. It would be devastating if we lost in the second round of playoffs, and I know for a fact it'd be all my fault in their eyes.

As I gaze around the field, the press box, which is filled with reporters and photographers, who aren't focused on the match at hand, catches my attention. I squint my eyes to see what they are looking at, and I get my answer as one of the photographers snaps pictures in my direction.

Almost on instinct, as if I had been burned, I push out of Russell's embrace and sit straight, in my own chair. He send me a look, "What's wrong?"

I glance at him, trying to come up with an excuse, "Nothing, I'm just starting to get worried we're going to lose." I turn my attention back on the match and lean my elbows onto my knees.

* * *

"And Sarah Donaldson catches the Snitch!" The commentator yells, "Harpies win, 590 to 540!"

A sigh of relief leave me as all of the players fly back into the designated exits that lead to their locker rooms, "I'm going to go to the locker room; check up on the team." I say, standing up and brushing the peanut shell flakes from my shirt.

"Want me to wait up?" He asks.

"Sure, but it'll take a while." I answer.

"Okay, I could go and get some food and meet you back at your place, then?"

"That would work." I reply, and before I know it he, with no warning, pulls me into a peck, "I'll talk to you later." He says, with a grin. I gulp and force a small grin.

"Okay." He brushes past me, walking out of the VIP box. I take a second to process what just happened, I can feel my face heat up and my stomach turn to knots. It's been a bit over two weeks since Russell and I decided to start seeing each other, yet it still feels...wrong.

He's a nice guy, honestly. He hasn't done anything that made me feel uncomfortable; he pulls out my chair and opens doors for me. He's one of the kindest men I've ever come across and I'm still having trouble even giving him the time of day.

I walk out of the VIP box and start toward the locker room, keeping my head down, hoping no one notices me. Finally, I make it to the back hallway where the locker room is and no outsiders are allowed to be in. I glance over my shoulder and see Tony leaning on the wall where the hallway starts.

I push the heavy door open and walk inside where the girls are standing around with-no happy faces?

"Congratulations?" I greet as I cross my arms and lean against some of the empty, green lockers.

A couple of the girls look up at me and, at least, acknowledge my presence, but most don't, "Any input, Weasley?" Gwenog asks, almost sounding like she really didn't want the question answered.

"Um, no, not really. You all played brilliantly." I say, dropping the top of my combat boot on the group.

"We would have played better if someone didn't go and ruin our chances." I hear Marie say under her breath. Wow, if you're going to go talk trash about me with me in the room, why don't you look me in the eyes when you say it?

"All right, Weasley, you're free to go." Gwenog dismisses me, "Practice on Monday starts at nine; don't be late."

I nod, with no words, and leave the room. I don't even want to be there anyway.

I floo to my house straight from the Pitch after letting Tony know I'm heading home. That awkward five minutes in the locker room really irritated me, if you really want to know. I understand that I messed up; that I should have been more careful and not gotten caught. But, they can't blame me for their mistakes on the Pitch; I mean, what kind of influence could I have had on that? I sat in the VIP box and watched the game; I didn't wave my wand and casted a spell to have Cecilia miss the Quaffle or for Marie to have accidentally dropped the ball.

Anyway, why are they even irritated with me? They won! Whatever happened to being happy after a victory? At least when I played for Gryffindor, even if we won by ten points we would go to the common room and celebrate; parties, streamers, and-after the younger kids and the Golden Trio went to bed-drink a little alcohol that the seventh years would smuggle in. I remember once I told Harry about all of what had gone on during the Quidditch celebrations after he would leave-funny how he never believed me.

I pour a little kibble into Baylor's bowl, and sit onto my sofa. I ponder about what had happened in these past few months; ponder about what I could do to possibly make it better. Right now, the only thing that can make it go easier is if the Harpies lose; so our season would be over, and I can finally play again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

That would be Russell. I survey my living room-as clean as it's going to get-and start for the front door. I open it and find him, with his hair tucked into a short ponytail, and a paper bag that is steaming in his hand.

"Someone order Chinese?" He asks, holding the bag up. I smile and step to the side for him to come inside, "I wasn't sure what you wanted so I just decided on that chicken fried rice would be the safest bet."

"Thanks," I say, leading him to the kitchen, "that would be perfectly fine."

"So, how did meeting up with the team go?"

"Fine." I say, taking out the little cartons of food and folding the paper bag to put in the wastebasket.

"All right, then." He says, taking the hint that I don't want to talk about it, "Can we talk for a second, Gin?" I freeze for a second before trying to meet his eyes; I haven't heard anyone call me that since…

"Sure?"

"I keep getting this feeling that you're a little on edge. Is everything alright?"

"What? Oh no, everything's fine." I lie, "I'm just, you know," I start looking around the kitchen for help on what to say, "You know, I've been a little jumpy lately." I glance down at the food and push it a little, "How about we eat later? I'm not really in the mood for food."

"Okay? Well, want to go sit in the living room then?"

"Yeah; yeah, that's fine." We move into the living room and take a seat on my sofa. I take a sip of the water I had left on the side table before he had arrived and twiddle my thumbs.

"Thanks for inviting me to the match, today, Gin." He starts, "I had a great time."

"Yeah, I did, too." I nod, "Maybe we could go to the next one together?"

He furrows his eyebrows as if he's thinking about it, "It depends what day it's on."

"The third of June." I answer, probably too quickly.

"Sorry, Ginny, but I can't; I have an interview on 'The Jonathan Norton Show'." I feel my hopeful smile fall. I don't want to go to the match alone, "Maybe you could come to that?"

"Oh, I'm not sure; Gwenog made it clear that I need to go to all the matches and practices. I don't know how forgiving she'd be if I went to a talk show instead of the match."

He watches me; I can tell he's a little put down from my answer, "Oh, yeah, the match is where you should be." He sounds like he genuinely believes what he's saying but at the same time still really wanted me to go with him.

I feel my heart pound in my chest, and my mouth moves without me even meaning to, "But, maybe I can get out of it."

"No, Ginny, don't do that for just an interview. It's no big deal."

"No; honestly, I can go; I'll just work it out with Gwen. I'm sure she won't mind." I say, kicking myself for putting myself in this position.

His eyes light up with excitement at the thought of me going to support him. I smile to mirror his face, "Well, I'll just see if I can get you a ticket. I'll try to get you to be in the front row."

"Alright."

"Thank you, Ginny." He says leaning in. I gulp, not sure if I really want to kiss him, but I close my eyes and decide to just go with it. Maybe if I try-really hard-maybe I could start to really like this guy. That's what he deserves right? Not to be brushed aside, not to be compared to someone who's not in my life anymore.

He puts his hand on the back of my head and before I could even take a full breath, his lips are on mine. I try to get into it, and put my hand on his cheek, but he's-well-sloppy from the beginning; tilting his head to the side before I could even register what's happening. He pushes and pulls and tries to push his tongue into my mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, and try to imagine of something pleasant. Baylor? No, that's weird-thinking of my dog while kissing a guy? Maybe I should think of Quidditch, but with Quidditch comes the girls and thinking of the girls while kissing a guy? No.

I put my hand into his hair and try to slow everything down. His hair must have been pulled from the ponytail at some point-all I can say is that it wasn't my doing. His hair tangles my hand within itself, I can smell a faint scent of lemon, maybe a little grass...yet, I don't think it's real. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, and I can feel the cold metal of glasses frames against my cheek bones-wait, no-I think that's his cold nose.

I decide I couldn't take it any longer. Pushing his shoulders away and turning my head, I tell him I'm overwhelmed and that I don't want to move fast. I think he understands, although he seems a little slighted by my words.

I immediately feel bad for telling him that, but when I try to explain myself he doesn't let me get a word in; he just keeps telling me, "I understand, Ginny," and "don't worry about it," and "I don't want to move too fast for you."

He ends up leaving my house, without even taking a bite of the Chinese food he'd bought. I offer to pay him for the meal but he refuses, and tells me to enjoy it. I promise I'll see him for his interview and he leaves. And I still feel bad about it all.

* * *

_3 June, 2000_

I take a seat down in the red chair that matches the number on my ticket. I'm at the Jonathan Norton Show, a talk show done live in front of an audience but is broadcasted over the wireless.

I put the program on my lap and fix my jacket; making sure that I will look okay in case I am recognized. Actually, it took me a couple of hours to choose what I am wearing. Finally I had decided on a yellow blouse with a black leather jacket, regular denim jeans and the same old combat boots I always wear.

The studio fills with people and I watch the producers and creative directors for the show as they run around like chickens with their heads cut off. Once the lights go down in the audience, Jonathan Norton walks out onto the studio floor, fixing his bangs in the mirror his assistant has in hand.

One lanky man walks up to the front of the studio with his back to the audience. He starts pointing to Jonathan and counting down, "Alright, broadcasting in three, two, one…"

"Hello, and welcome one and all to the Jonathan Norton Show. Today we have a few very special guests; first, taking a break from releasing her new album, we have Celestina Warbeck on the show! We have Seeker from the Wimbourne Wasps, Victoria Matthews on the show! And lastly, here to promote his new comedy tour called 'Let Me Tell You,' Russell Fairway is here on the show!"

I listen as the host goes on and on, making a few jokes, talking about each of his guests and what he may or may not ask them, and finally, he announces he's going to bring his guests out. One by one, he brings each person out; each of them getting a huge round of applause as they come out from backstage.

Now, I know what you're probably wondering; how did I get out of going to the match for this talk show. Well, I told Gwenog I had a family emergency. She knows that my relationship with my family is stretched but if they had an emergency, she knows that I'd go and help them and she wouldn't even question it.

"So, Russell, your tour is going on for how many more months?" Jonathan Norton asks.

"I have about three more months in the UK, and then I'm doing a couple of shows in the US, and the I go over to Brazil for a little bit and then I come back here."

"So, your tour has already gone to France and Spain and what not?"

"Yeah, I think I performed in those countries a couple months ago. Both were crazy experiences; Spain was particularly insane because my mates and I-"

But I didn't hear him continue with his story. Instead my attention was taken by the voice of an old man sitting behind me saying, 'Harpies'. I lean back in my chair to hear what he's whispering to whomever he was with.

"...despondent over it. I guess they lost by about a hundred points, Gwenog Jones didn't take it well. They probably would have won if that new Chaser of theirs hadn't gotten herself in trouble."

I sink into my seat, whoever he is obviously doesn't know I'm sitting in front of him. But, the Harpies? Out of the Playoffs? There's a pang in my chest as I realize that it's true. And I wasn't there to share the pain of losing?

I immediately feel uncomfortable in this cushioned chair. How would I be able to face my team after my alleged brush with a 'family emergency'?

* * *

The interview ends and I wait in the corner of the lobby for Russell to come out so we can leave. I keep my head down, trying to avoid all matters of contact and social behavior that normal people would have in a time like this. Each second feels like minutes. Each minutes feels like years.

"Gin?" A voice asks, as a hand goes on my shoulder from behind. I spin and my eyes meet the dark brown ones of Russell, "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just that," I shake my head, "The Harpies lost, is all."

"Oh, really?" He asks, his eyebrows furrow in concern, "I'm sorry."

"I just really want to go home." I say, bluntly, shaking his hand off of my shoulder. He looks at me with surprise and then nods, leading me the way to the floo to take me home. "I just can't believe it; and I know that the girls are going to be all over me about this."

"Hmmhmm." He nods, eyes focused front.

"And you know what I heard a guy say? That it was my fault because I got in trouble. He didn't even know I was around." I glance at him, I can see the growing red in the corner of my eyes, "And I just thought that if one person is saying it, who knows what the rest of the world is saying."

"Not everyone is blaming you, Ginny." He bursts out; I swear I see him roll his eyes. I cross my arms but keep walking-now we continue in silence.

I need something. And I know exactly what. I glance up at him. I'm not sure how he'd feel about it. I've researched him since our date to the anniversary ball. I've read about his little drug problem, and I know about the struggle he faced in rehab. Do I think he'll mind if I went home and just indulged a little? To be honest, I don't really know and I don't really care.

"The Summit." I say as I throw the floo powder into the fireplace. I walk into my living room and throw my jacket onto the sofa. Taking a seat on the leather couch, I pull out a book that I keep in the drawer of the coffee table. Opening it up, I shake the book until a small baggie falls out.

Just as I pull out a straw, my fireplace flares and out walks Russell, "Ginny?" He calls a split second before his eyes focus on me. "Ginny!" He yells snatching the baggie from my hand. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"What are _you _doing; give that back!"

"No!" He looks at the the plastic bag, opens it and sniffs it, "I thought you got in trouble for drinking the night before a practice." I stand still, watching him as he watches me. My mouth goes dry and I shrug.

"I did."

"Then please explain to me what this is."

I shake my head and cross my arms, "It's just-"

"Cocaine." He says, quite bluntly. I watch him as he picks up the bag from the table and stares at me with anger. "Ginny, I don't know how much you know about me and my past. But, I've been hooked on this stuff before. I know what it's like and I know what it's like to come off of it. I am not going to let anyone I know go down that path; especially someone I'm seeing."

"Well, it's not your job to take care of me, thank you very much."

"Actually, I think it is; since you obviously can't do that yourself." He glances at the roll in his hand, "Is this what caused everything? Your separation from your family? Your breakup with that Potter fellow?"

"What? No." I answer, shocked at his assumptions, "And that's none of your business."

"You know what, I'm going to leave before I do something I'm going to regret." He puts the blunt into the baggie and stuffs it all into his back pocket. "Thanks for coming to the show." Although he doesn't look grateful, "I'll see you later."

"What? So, you're just going to leave?"

"I thought you were better than this, Ginny. I didn't want to believe the scandal sheets."

Ouch. That hurt.

He turns on his heel and starts toward the fireplace once again, "I'll see you later, Ginny." He throws some floo powder onto the wood and disappears in front of my eyes. Leaving me with a sense of déjà vu.

* * *

_ 4 June 2000_

The guilt I feel is extreme. I didn't mean to let my instincts get the best of me. Or my temptations. I feel as though I need to apologize to Russell. Tell him that I really don't mean to do the things that I do. I owe him at least that. Plus, he didn't say that we weren't seeing each other anymore. Maybe it was just one of those things people get into and don't break up because of it.

Maybe he's someone who wouldn't just leave me based off of one mishap.

I floo to his flat around ten o'clock in the morning and am met with the sight of a man with his hair tied back into a ponytail, standing over his stove making what I believe is scrambled eggs.

"Russell?"

"Yes?" He turns around, obviously caught off guard with the presence of a guest, "Oh, Ginny." An awkward bubble fills the room and I shift uneasily upon my feet.

"I'm really sorry...about last night."

He wipes his hand on a cloth and leans back upon the counter. "Are you seriously hooked on that stuff?"

I shift my gaze to between his eyes and shake my head, "No, I'm not."

"Then why do you have it in your house?"

I shrug, "I've done it once or twice. I just-I don't know-last night, I felt like I needed to do it but really I didn't." I look to the floor, "And I'm sorry about it." I glance up at him, "You're so angry, aren't you?"

"Angry? Not as much as I was last night. And I'll accept your apology, if and only if, you promise me you won't go near that stuff again." I look at him straight on, feeling a lump form in my throat, "Promise?" He asks.

"Promise."

Oh. Shite.

**_A/N: __So a long chapter after a long wait! Actually I'm stuck in a blizzard and finally had the excuse to write! Only two chapters until Ginny finally makes up with her family, although the story is little over half way done. So, tell me what you think? I really do read all reviews and try to answer any questions that pop up. From now on, I will answer any questions from guests as well in my next chapters, so if you leave me a question as an anonymous viewer or a guest I'll answer it in the author note of the next chapter!_**


	16. Chapter 16: The Power of Wood

**A/N: Oh boy Oh boy it has been a while since I've updated! To be honest, I've had a lot of stuff going on in my life and writing has not been a priority of mine whilst I had other things on my plate. So, here we are Chapter 16 out of 22; so we're almost done. Chapters are about to get a lot longer (as they have already started to be) and I know that all of you who have voiced what you hate about this story are going to be (hopefully) very satisfied with the UPCOMING chapters...maybe a little satisfied with this one as well...just not as much. **

**So in this chapter we see a change in Ginny, and finally get deep into her thoughts-well, as she starts to deal a side of herself she's tried to keep stashed away. **

**Thank you for your candid thoughts in the reviews, especially Psych0Geek, tkmemmott, fons19, and ProngsI who review basically every time I update along with many more that I didn't mention just on the premises of keeping this as short as possible. (I'll mention more in the future)**

**Now to acknowledge those who have pointed out plot bunnies and the sorts, thank you for shining lights on these flaws although there's not much I can do about them now (started writing this story about two years ago when I was very naive about how the world works, addictions and the like and although I've tried to fix the crappy foundation I started this story upon, I can't really make it perfect. I wanted to show a darker side of a great character and didn't intend for it to come across as bashing her (nor any other character except for the ones I created) and obviously mostly every other reader feels as though that was my intention and it's really not.) Hopefully for all of those who absolutely hate this story but keep reading to see how it ends, this chapter *wishing from the bottom of my heart* is a redemption. If not, I'll be quite sad. **

**Anyway I'll get out of the bold letters and bring you to the story.**

* * *

**_Chapter 16: Never Underestimate the Power of Wood_**

_20 August, 2000_

"So," Russell starts, nudging me in my side to stop me from continuing to peruse the newspaper in my hands.

"Hm?" I'm not in the mood to talk right now. I keep my eyes to the journal but I can feel his watching me carefully, yet hesitantly.

"Have you been thinking about the awards?" He asks, grabbing the paper out of my hands and folding it up to put in on the table. I take a deep breath and finally look at him.

"Awards?"

"The awards show." He glances at me before pressing on, "In a couple of weeks?"

"Oh, right." I say, grabbing a magazine from the side table and flipping through the pages of _Witch Weekly, _trying to signal that I'm not interested in conversing about this right now.

"So," He nudges me, "have you written your acceptance speeches yet?" I glance up at him and shake my head.

"No, I don't think it'd be necessary to write them; I mean, between my age, my rookie title and my suspension, the chances of me winning anything is slim."

"Not necessarily true, I mean, you have one in the bag." I lower the magazine and squint at him questioningly, "the youngest starting Quidditch player award. I mean, you beat Viktor Krum by a week."

"Yeah, but I don't think they're actually presenting that award. I'm pretty sure that awards that are a given are just be mailed by owl, or given after the event or something."

"Is it just that you don't want to go?" I feel my gut drop and my face burn up slightly.

"What?" I imitate a shocked and amused tone, "What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one Christina will be there," he pauses before pressing on, "which means Harry will be there too. And I know how much he hurt you."

My smile drops slightly, and I shake my head, "No, he didn't hurt me-I just-it was my fault and I don't think I can face him for it."

"You never told me what happened, I mean I think I know but I really don't...do you want to talk about it?"

No. I don't. The last thing I want to do is rehash my feelings for a guy that is happily dating another girl. Although I'm sure Russell would be just as kind and sympathetic for me as he always has been, I just don't feel as though our relationship is to that point-or that it would ever be to that point.

I shrug and shake my head once more, "I'm just procrastinating, you know, I'm not a great public speaker." He reaches over and rubs my back. It feels awkward and weird to have someone do that for me who doesn't look at me behind a pair of glasses.

"Okay, well, since we're talking about the event-finally-I was wondering if you were still looking for a date."

I smirk, deciding the best way to lighten the mood is to act, maybe, a little flirty, "Well, I had a few candidates in mind but I haven't made any final decisions."

"And who may those candidates be?"

"No one of much importance. Although, I'm thinking about one…"

"Really? And may I ask if that's me?"

I shrug playfully, and lean over to peck him on the lips. He gives me a sportive smile, "Well, then I'll pick you up around six, take you out to dinner, and then graciously escort you to your awaiting prizes."

* * *

_27 August, 2000_

Today, I'm meeting with Alexis, who works with me on anything that involves dressing for events, to plan for the award ceremony that's in a couple of weeks. I guess you could say I'm cutting it close when it comes to ordering a unique dress, but hey if it doesn't come in on time, that would be the perfect excuse not to go.

It's been awhile since I've been in London. Well over a year to be precise. But I'm not here to get sentimental for you.

So, a few days ago, we played the Falmouth Falcons and, thank Merlin, ended with a fifty point lead. After the horrid ending to playoffs last season, I knew that if we didn't win this game, I still would be the girl that blew the team off for a trivial interview. And, to be honest, these past few weeks, I've just been trying to get back on good graces with the team.

Now, back to the present. But, to explain what happens next in this chapter of my life, I'd like to give you some backstory. Being a well-known figure in the Wizarding World, I've learned that witches and wizards don't just live in magical cities. For example, sure, you'd find a strong concentration of magical people in a place like Holyhead or Ottery St. Catchpole, but that doesn't mean that no one with this gift lives in a place like Surrey. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, you can find witches and wizards anywhere. I've learned this the hard way.

Now it's because of this fact that if you were to see me out and about, I'd be walking quickly on the sidewalk with my head down. And on this particular day, especially in a large and crowded city like London, of course, my eyes are not focused in front of me.

I stride across the street and up onto the cement sidewalk. It's noon on a Saturday, so, of course, the streets of London-especially the main streets- are packed with people. I follow the school of fish that I seem to be apart of until I get to Fifth avenue where I turn left and walk quickly down the shaded sidewalk, soon filing out of the crowds.

I glance up at the sign I'm approaching, making sure that I'm on the right path-actually, which turn am I supposed to make again? I reach into my purse and pull out a the parchment with the directions and my wallet.

I read through the lines on the paper, trying to catch up to where I'm supposed to be. _Okay, okay, turn left on Fifth avenue, walk two blocks, take a right a-_

"Oh, sorry." The parchment and my wallet fall onto the pavement, and, of course, my wallet opens, scattering all of my possessions that I had kept in the undetectable extension charm of the pocketbook. I squat down to pick up the parchment and the belongings that fell out.

"It's okay." I mutter back to the man. He seemed to squat down as well to help me. I stuff the items back into my wallet and look up. My eyes meet green…

An awkward tension falls between us. He clumsily hands me what he has in his hands and I gulp, taking it and stashing it away.

"Here." He helps me up from the ground and now I'm standing face to face with him.

"Sorry." I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, nodding to the wallet, but really intending on much more than that.

"It's okay." He says before glancing behind me and nodding curtly before carrying on. In this moment, I'm paralyzed to my spot. What do I do? Do I turn around, ask him how he's been doing, apologize for everything?

I turn around to say something but am met with a scene of a peck and a hug of a much more novel couple. I feel my heart drop slightly, and turn around. I must have forgotten; He's with her.

* * *

_13 September 2000_

"_...News has been sparse lately when it comes to Ginny Weasley, but only hours before submitting the final publishing for this issue of _Witch Weekly _we had the privilege of catching a moment with the esteemed Quidditch star's mother, Molly Weasley nee Prewett. When asked about her daughter, Mrs. Weasley was short and curt exclaiming that 'all Quidditch has done for my family is tear us apart. Fame and money changed my daughter to be a completely different person, and that's all I'll say about it.' So, it seems even Weasley's mother agrees that this superstar has turned into a super-"_

I set the paper down on the kitchen table. Not able to think coherently. I'm not angry, nor am I surprised; I mean, my mother just spoke her truth-the truth-although, I disagree. Not with the fact that I'm a different person, no, looking back on the past year, yes, I've changed. Not for the better. But, I don't think it was because of Fame nor do I think it was because of money.

Disagree with me or not; I think I changed because of my naivety-no-my yearning to belong. To be honest, at Hogwarts, I never really belonged. Among my brothers, I never really belonged. And now, in the Harpies, I don't belong. Maybe it's a delusion of my own self conscious but although I try to make myself seem as this strong, independent being-and once upon a time, I was-on the inside, I'm just a hesitant, little girl.

After the whole Riddle ordeal back when I was eleven, I told myself I would never allow that girl to ever come back. So I hid her, as best as I could, and eventually lost her to the fierce, carefree, passionate Ginny that I enjoyed becoming. But, then the war came and it changed everyone-especially me. That same hesitant girl came back and I tried again to lose her; to bury her away, but this time I couldn't.

Of course, when we were rebuilding after the Battle, and when I attended Hogwarts, I thought I was doing a pretty good job. The only two people I didn't seem to fool were Harry and Hermione. One time, they had approached me on the subject; telling me that, in time, if I kept acting as if nothing was wrong, I would start to crack.

I guess taking a high intensity job with many manipulative people and moving away from any familial influences could cause a pretty big schism in myself.

So, if you couldn't tell, I'm very well aware of how wrong my behavior has been. Of how irritating and annoying I have been over the course of this past year. Of how out of sorts I am with myself as I've tried to find my way in this professional world. I'm not going to make excuses and I'm not going to say that I did it for a reason. Because, to be honest, I did it because in a time of desperation, I wanted to change to _someone _again. Obviously I went the wrong way about it. And the fight to change back is harder than the change forward.

"Ginny?" I shake away from my mind, "It's time to get ready." Alexis turns on her heel and moves up the stairs. I glance back down at the paper with the picture of the fleeting figure of my mother, and turn it to lie face down. "Ginny?"

"Coming." I mutter, dragging my feet toward the stairwell.

* * *

Green flames fire up within the stone fireplace of my house and he finally makes his appearance. WIth his hair tucked back in a small ponytail and his tuxedo shirt tucked into his slacks, he greets me with a kiss on the cheek and slides a corsage onto my wrist. I stare down at the red flowers with the green ribbon tied around the stems against my light pink gown and sigh. I guess, I should have given him a color scheme.

I choose not to say anything.

Alexis soon leaves, with one snooty look at my wrist and a very apparent eye roll, leaving Russell, Tony and I alone in my living room. I glance over at Tony to give him the signal to wait in the foyer; I'm still proud of the fact that we formed our own code within a few months of being paired up.

Russell starts to tell me all about the restaurant we're going out to eat at and how he made sure Tony had a reservation for a couple of tables away to be courteous of privacy. It seems as though decades pass before he takes a breath-and then continues on his little vocal dissertation.

My eyes drift over to the magazine that is face down on my table, and I start to go through the events of this past year, once again, in my head. Starting with the acceptance letter, the floo call, the departure at the train station, the first practice, the first game, and so on and so forth. I think about how many people depend on me-or really Ginny Weasley-to support themselves or their family. I think back to when Joan told me I was going to be the bad girl...that it was inevitable for me to become her.

What was the reason again?

Oh, yeah. Fame and money...Maybe my mother wasn't wrong. Maybe fame and money _was _the cause of my transfiguration.

"Ginny?" I shake out of my thoughts and look up at a complete stranger, "You were millions of miles away there." Russell states, "You okay?"

It takes me a second, but I nod. He glances behind himself and looks at the magazine on the table, "Oh, is this about that article about your mum?" My eyes flicker to him but I don't reply, "Gin, don't let that get to you. People change all of the time, and who says what you've become is a worse version of yourself. It's just too bad that your mum is too much of an ignorant, old woman to see all of the success you've had. But, hey, most successful people had to escape the grasps of their subordinate family in order to get to where they wanted to be."

My eyes shift from the ground to him and I realize just how wrong this is.

"Don't say that about her," His eyebrows furrow in confusion, "and don't say that about my family. You have no business commenting on my situation nor theirs."

"I was just supporting yo-"

"I don't need your support," I correct him, "You've never met my family; you don't know what they're like. And you, obviously, don't know my mother, either. How do you know that I didn't just muck things up and that _I'm _not the one who's living the 'subordinate' life to them?"

"Ginny, maybe you're just a little emotional-"

"Don't call me emotional."

"-but I saw how your family looked at you at the Anniversary Ball. They were throwing darts at you with their eyes. Not very loving and caring as a family should be in my opinion."

"Well, you don't have the authority to have an opinion."

"Actually, I think I do. I'm your boyfriend, Ginny, they obviously hurt you; why can't you see that I'm just sticking up for you?"

"Because all you're doing is adding gasoline to the fire when I don't need you to. My family is my family. I only have one and despite what's going on, they'd never leave me out in the cold and I would never try to 'escape their grasps' because they're the best things to ever happen to me."

"Really? They're better than the life you have now? Ginny, you're making ship-loads of galleons each year. You live in luxury and all they did was shut you out. You're seriously telling me that you'd rather go and sit in a cramped kitchen, eating mediocre food every Sunday evening than go out to eat at a five-star restaurant?"

My jaw drops. Is this the same guy that I thought I was seeing? Is he one of these superficial Holyhead stars who think that money solves all of the world's problems? That fame and luxury is the key to all happiness?

I flash through all of my memories over the past four months with this man and realize that it had nothing to do with feelings, nor compatibility. Every date, every meal, all had to do with an event, or an opportunity.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, because I can bet you by Merlin's gold tooth that no meal at a five-star restaurant could ever compare to the food sitting on that table every Sunday night."

He studies me for a moment in pure shock, shaking his head in disbelief, "I can't believe you're sticking up for those people after they have closed the door in your face for the past year."

I cross my arms and take a deep breath, "Because, Russell, I love them...and I know they love me and, despite all that's happened, they would come to my rescue if I called them for help." He adjusts himself, staring coldly in my eyes, "And you know what, don't worry about the Awards tonight. I'm just going to go alone."

I slide the corsage off of my wrist and place it on the small table beside me. I pass by him and grab my pocketbook off of the couch and make a start for the foyer.

"So this is it then?" I turn and face him for a second.

"Yeah, sorry for wasting your time." He shakes his head, looking at me as if I'm the dumbest human being he's ever seen in his life, "You can see yourself out."And with that I turn on my heel and walk into the foyer.

"You're making a huge mistake." His voice calls out as I leave.

Oh, trust me, I've made one of those before. This isn't that big of one.

I hear the sound of an apparation behind me and I look up at Tony, who's wearing a smug smirk across his lips. He opens the door for me, but before I pass the threshold, I feel a beefy hand land on my shoulder followed by the sound of an amused voice saying,

"Welcome back, Ginny."

* * *

_ "I just can't believe this, Ginny Weasley, Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, is walking across the red carpet without acknowledging any reporter nor stopping for any photos. Ginny! Ginny! It does not look like she's stopping to make any comments. Either she's not very confident about her nominations tonight or she feels as though she's too good to give her thoughts."_

* * *

I walk with my head down through the auditorium of the theatre in London. Hopefully no one has noticed my presence-yet, with a man like Tony as a bodyguard, I'm sure everyone has. I made a deal with him before we entered the theatre that I'd walk and he'd keep an eye out for our seat numbers. Or really, the row that's being taken up by all of the Holyhead Harpies managers and company.

He nudges my shoulder and I turn to see him nod toward a few empty seats. I swiftly move through the small aisle and take the seat that wears a gold plate labelled,

"_Reserved. Ginny Weasley. Holyhead Harpies." _

I sit silently, flipping through the pages of the program, trying to kill the time before the ceremony starts. I can hear Marie taking one of the seats behind me with Joan by her side and I can see Gwen sitting down with her fiance in a couple seats in front of me with my peripheral vision.

I glance up at the clock; fifteen minutes until the show starts.

"Tony, I'm going to go use the loo." I stand and I notice as he starts to stand as well, "No, it's okay, I think I can handle this on my own, chief."

"Sorry, Weasley, it's my job-"

"No, it's okay; I've got my wand and I swear I'll just go straight to the ladies' room and back and you won't even notice I've been gone." He gives me a skeptical look but decides not to fight me. I scooch my way back out of the row of seat and walk up the aisle to leave the theatre. Again, keeping my head down, I weave through of the crowds of people in the lobby until I get to the bathroom and hurry inside.

Within five minutes, I walk back out and rush toward the entrance of the theatre but then,

"Ginny? Ginny Weasley!"

Instinctively, I look over my shoulder and am met with the most striking picture in my life. Celestina Warbeck, staring straight at me. I glance around the lobby to see if anyone else could have called me, but no one is looking at me but Celestina.

"Yes?" I reply, quietly.

She walks up to me with all the grace in the world, smiling from ear to ear, "Celestina Warbeck." She says, pointing to herself.

"Oh, I know." I say, completely starstruck.

She smiles elegantly at me, "I'm sorry, I'm just a huge fan of yours." I feel my stomach drop into my knees.

"And I'm a huge fan of yours, too." I can literally feel my face burning up under the candle lit chandelier.

"Why thank you, but I was wondering if I could get your autograph, as long as it's not an intrusion of course."

Feeling my heart jump from my chest, I smile, widely, "Of course it's not." I take the book she hands me and sign as best and as neat as I could, "Here."

"Thank you, I'm just really impressed by your talents. I'm sorry to hear what you went through but I understand what it's like to get lost in all of this." She gestures around, and although some analysts would say that she was gesturing to nothing, I would say she was gesturing to everything.

"Thank you, this is just so incredible...um, do you mind if I ask for your autograph as well?" She smiles and nods, "I, um, don't have anything for you to sign but, um-"

But before I could try and think of something, she takes out a silk handkerchief from her small purse and conjures up a pen, "Who should I make it out to?" She jokes and I smile back.

"Where have you been?" Tony asks, irritated, as I sit in my seat just as the lights go dark.

"Sorry, just got caught up with someone." I whisper back.

"Merlin, you know how to get on my last nerve." I hear him mutter under his breath; I can't help but smirk.

* * *

_The After Party_

Growing up, I remember hearing stories about exclusive parties that only top and elite celebrities attend, but I had thought as a child that it was all gossip and after every event, actors, actresses, Quidditch players, singers and the like just go home like normal people. When I finally grew old enough to acknowledge how exclusivity exists in the world, I never thought that I was going to be one of those types of people and that was final.

Until Steve and Lisa told me that no, I didn't have a choice and I was going to go to the party after the ceremony and make connections to people outside of the Quidditch world. So, with dragging feet, I went to the hotel in London where this so called 'Star' party was. Now, here I am an hour later standing along the side of the room with a drink in my hand and no one to talk to.

"Well, well, well." A deep voice sounds from behind me, "Maybe I'm just an optimist but I believe the saying goes, 'two outta three ain't bad'?"

I smirk to myself before turning over my shoulder to look into a mischievous pair of brown eyes, "I think that's exactly how the saying goes." I laugh, "Yet who would have guessed that little, old Ginny Weasley would win more awards than the great Oliver Wood." I joke as he pulls me into a brotherly hug.

"Hey, when I was in my rookie season I won two awards, too." He pulls back, "But in my second season I won _three _awards; so, it looks like you have to step it up this season."

"I'll be sure to take you up on that challenge." He smiles down at me and takes a swig from his short glass of firewhiskey, studying me as he does it.

"So," He starts, "how have you been doing?" Suddenly, it feels hard to look him in the eyes. "Sorry, but I feel as the messenger to your brother, I must ask."

I furrow my eyebrows curiously, "messenger to my brother?"

He holds up his hand and his drink in defense, "Hey, I'm not supposed to say anything to you...just repeat everything you say to him."

I snort, "It's been going...you know, as well as it can, I guess." I take a sip of the sparking water that's in my glass. "It's just that-I don't know."

"No, what? It's just that…" He eggs me on. I take a second to gather my thoughts.

"It's just that this has been one of the hardest years of my life. I guess I just didn't expect my first year out of school to go the way it did."

He sighs and shakes his head, but not at me; with me. "Listen, I totally understand. It's my upcoming seventh season in the league and I've seen the good, the bad and the ugly within this profession. Yet, I think you've seen worse; you've seen the good, the bad and the ugly within life...I think you'll be okay; you're a real rockstar, kid."

He takes another swig of his firewhiskey, "That, or you're just drunk."

"No, I'm serious." He hangs his heavy arm around my shoulder, "I'm your temporary support system, Ginbug." I smile at the nickname my brothers used to use when talking to me, "I mean, I'm always supporting you like a little sister, but right now, I'm taking the position as captain. So, stop watching Four Eyes and his girl, and come dance with me."

I feel my neck burn against the side of his forearm, "I have not been watchi-"

"Just come dance."

**A/N: So, hopefully this chapter was a bit of a redemption. Next chapter will be the one I know you have been waiting for! Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think in the reviews, or yell at me if you absolutely hated it! I want to know the good, the bad and the ugly within this chapter (as Oliver Wood would say ;D)**


	17. Chapter 17: It Takes Guts

**_A/N: So, here we are Chapter 17/22 (or 23?) I hope you enjoy this chapter, I really wanted to take my time to make sure I was proud of the product I was putting out there. Let me know!_**

* * *

_30 December, 2000_

_ Don't you just hate when things don't go as planned?_

Flurries...that's all that was supposed to happen. Flurries, if anything. But, here we are, one of the last games before playoffs and it's snowing-heavily. Of course, I guess this is to be expected, I mean; it's the end of December and there have been more forecasts than I can count that predicted a huge snowstorm happening this winter in Wales. Unfortunately, it just happened to fall on today of all days.

I can't tell you what the score is, nor can I tell you what is actually happening at the moment. I can barely see ten feet in front of me, and it wouldn't surprise me if you said that the Quaffle was lying on the field and all of us were just flying in circles.

Before the game, Gwenog had told us that a true Quidditch team can play in whatever weather Merlin decides to send our way, but I think that, even Gwenog Jones, stands corrected.

A loud chime echoes in the foggy stadium, "And Mills makes a goal for the Bats! Bats in the lead 140-90."

Okay, well now I know we're losing and the Quaffle is definitely active. I fly toward the hoops of the Bats; maybe if I stall here someone will throw the Quaffle toward me? To be honest, I think the Bats are at an advantage; with their bright red uniforms, they can see each other through the gloominess of the snow. As for us, the dark green is not as easy to see.

The sight in front of me is honestly terrifying; one moment I'm just looking at a white fog, and the next, a player is shooting towards me. And, from my point of view, everyone looks just as disoriented as I feel. I fly up higher into the sky to stay away from any oncoming traffic; maybe from a higher altitude I'll be able to see what exactly is happening and get into the action.

I struggle to search for any players in the fog that is snow, and I'm starting to think that this match is going to become one of those matches you always hear about; the ones that last days due to the weather systems.

Searching through the sky for any sight of red or green flying around, I still can't see anything. The speed of the snowfall has seemed to increase, so I fly lower in hopes to catch a glimpse of the players. Without much luck, I decide to lower my height a little more. I feel my nose dripping from the cold, and my teeth start to chatter; I need to move around and get the blood circulating once more. I fly forward and to the right in hopes of warming up my arms and maybe getting back into the match…

But, before I know what is going on, I feel the sensation of floating-or falling-and everything goes black, and all I feel is a heavy pain in my gut and no air in my lungs.

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

All I can hear is a steady rhythm of high pitch beeps and the sound of an old air conditioning unit. I experimentally shift my position, only to be met with pain...what happened? With all of my might, I force my eyes open, only to close them once more on instinct; wherever I am, the lights are bright and my eyes can't take the sudden change in setting. I sigh and once again try to see where I am, this time squinting to avoid any pain.

"Well, good to see you awake, Ms. Weasley." A voice sounds from beside me. I turn my head to see a witch in blue robes adjusting my pillows; "You're at Holyhead Medical right now. You had a bit of a nasty fall during the match and we rushed you here straight away."

I swallow, and sink my head into my pillows, "How did I fall?"

"You were struck by a Bludger to your abdomen, which forced you off your broom. You were about fifty feet in the air when you fell; although the snow probably contributed to your fall, you were lucky that it was piled on the field or you would have had many more injuries." She turns around to check my vitals and refill the bag that's connected to me by a tube.

The door to the private room opens up to reveal an aged man with a tired smile on his face.

"Ah, Ms. Weasley, nice to see you've woken up." The man with white robes greets as he enters the room, "I'm your healer today; Robbins." He reaches out and shakes my limp hand. I watch as he pulls a clipboard from under his arm and a quill from his pocket, "So, you were hit in the stomach by an oncoming Bludger which caused you to fall off of your broom. Thankfully you only punctured your stomach lining and cracked a couple of ribs-but, seeing as you had quite the drop, I'm going to keep an eye on your head to be sure that you're not concussed."

"Are my ribs healed?" I ask, watching this man intently. The last thing I need after being suspended last season is to be injured this one. He nods with a proud smile and checks his clipboard once more.

"Everything has been taken care of, except for your head, of course. So, I'm going to have you stay here for a few more hours so that I can monitor your behavior and make sure nothing is out of the ordinary; you know, slow or slurred speech, dilated pupils and the like."

"Do I need to be discharged by someone?" I ask curiously; really to find out if my parents were here, are here or will be in time.

"No; as an adult with no fatal injuries, no guardian nor patient advocate is needed to check you out of the hospital." He answers, "Any other questions?"

"No, that's all-actually, just out of curiosity, sir, who is my patient advocate?" I remember having to sign an endless amount of documents when I joined the Harpies; and I'm sure one of them was about who makes the decisions regarding myself when I'm incapable of doing so.

"Uh, let's see," He flips through his papers, "Arthur Weasley." He answers, before standing up. "So, I want you to eat something, maybe rest a little longer and then I'm going to have a witch come in here and run some tests to be sure that you don't have any signs of a concussion, and, just as long as you pass, you'll be free to go home."

"Okay, thank you." I answer, before trying to sit up against the metal back frame of the hospital cot, taking the packs of saltines and the pouch orange juice from the nurse.

A few minutes after I finished my snack, a witch entered my room, just as the healer had said, and asked me specific questions and had me solve different puzzle to make sure that I wasn't exhibiting any symptoms of a concussion.

Within a couple of hours, I was checking out of Holyhead Medical on my own and returning to my house alone. Walking through the green flames of my fireplace, I was met with the presence of my assistant, tidying up the seat cushions on my couch.

"Felicia? What are you doing here?" I ask, hesitantly, "And how did you get in here?"

She purses her lips at my bluntness and shakes her head, "I have a key, and as your assistant I am acting as your babysitter for the next couple of days to make sure you get back on your feet."

I nervously watch her mess around with the pillows and the books on my coffee table, afraid that she might find what I keep stashed away. "Thanks, but you really don't have to do that; I mean, the healers said that it was nothing major; I didn't even need anyone to check me out of the hospital." I peel off my coat, keeping my eyes on her every move, "So, I should be okay on my own."

"Sorry, Ginny, but it's just policy. You did fall fifty feet, and in the books that's seen as a serious accident. Plus, we got a statement from Holyhead Medical and your healer said that you need to stay in bed and take it easy for a couple of days. I'm just here to ensure you're doing so." I take a sigh of relief as she stops messing around my living room, she looks up at me studying my face for a second, "Sorry, but it's policy."

Nodding, I decide to try to get her out of the living room and into the kitchen, "Well, I was going to go and make some dinner; does pasta sound okay for you?"

"Sounds fine." She answers, following me into my kitchen. I open the pantry to pull out a box of Rotini pasta and some tomato sauce, "So, I've let your parents know about your accident by owl, and I'm sure they'll get back to me as soon as the-"

"Wait, sorry?" I interrupt, whipping over my shoulder to look at her once more.

"I owled your parents to tell them you've been discharged from the hospital and they shouldn't worry about you." I stand for a second, trying to come up with something to respond with.

"And why did you do that?" I ask._ Wow, Ginny, great response. _I set the pasta down and lean on the counter to support the uneasy feeling in my stomach. Felicia's eyes smolder at me with a curious yet sympathetic look.

"Because I know that you wouldn't tell them anything either way so I made sure they knew what was happening with their daughter. It's the least they deserve." I feel my face flush and I turn around to start boiling the water.

* * *

_8 March, 2001_

The whistle signals the end of the test and our group is dismissed from the gym. It's the semi-annual fitness clinic for the International Quidditch League, and just as before, I was placed in a group of about twenty Quidditch players to do physical and medical tests and later this month I'll be notified about what ranking in the league I am. Although the routine and the tests were identical to the ones from the previous clinics, the feeling in the air of this clinic contrasts the others completely.

Why? Because this is the first clinic I've had since...well, you know. And I can just feel the disapproving eyes studying me carefully as I perform each task as well as I can. I could hear the suspicions in the voice of the healer as he asked me about my alcohol and drug use. I knew he didn't believe me; but with no proof, he couldn't exactly condemn me.

I believe there was improvement in my physical tests, but only in a small amount. Of course, I wasn't going to miraculously have a spike in my physical ability being that I was out for a good portion of the season last year.

The rest of the players in my test group walk back to the changing rooms, and I follow slowly behind. There's no point trying to walk with them; it's not like they'll try to make conversation with me. As we disperse I take a left and swiftly move into the bathroom. I turn on the tap and let the water trickle down into the sink for a second. Trying to regain my thoughts, and of course, my breath.

I move to the paper towel dispenser and tear off a piece, wetting the towel before dabbing my sweaty face with it. I dry my face and turn the tap off, holding the sides of the sink and leaning into the porcelain bowl. Almost half way through the test, and I already feel exhausted, not so much physically as I am mentally. The pressure is just pushing down on my shoulders and I don't know how much more my bones can take.

I look up into the mirror at my red face and damp hair, trying to fix my appearance before I go back into the gym and start the next exam. A door to one of the stalls behind me swings open and I find myself trying to act busy, fixing my hair and minding my own business. After snapping the hair band around my slightly messy ponytail, I stand back up straight and am met with the reflection of a petite blonde washing her hands in the sink beside me.

She glances up into the mirror in front of her and a perfect smile twitches across her lips, "Oh, hi Ginny, how are you?"

I feel my face flush as I try to compose words in my mind to make me sound not awkward, "Fine, and you?"

Christina moves to the paper towel dispenser and dries her hands, "I'm doing perfectly well." She throws the crumpled paper into the wastebasket and brushes her long hair over her shoulder.

I avoid her eyes, and take one more glance in the mirror at my less than perfect appearance, "I guess I should get back out there."

She nods, and I make a move to leave the bathroom, but before I can leave, she stops me, "Ginny," I turn around, looking at her as calmly as I could, "I have a question, if you don't mind." I nod, "Teddy keeps asking for a book he likes to read, I think it's called something like '_The Clabbering Clabbert' _or something like tha-"

"_The Chattering Clabbert."_ I correct.

She smiles, "Yeah; it has a yellow cover. Your mum said she last saw it when they visited your flat." She takes a moment to pause before continuing, "We looked everywhere in Harry's flat but it doesn't seem to be there." I look up to meet her face and I can see an almost smug smirk across her lips.

I look away, shaking my head, "Um...sorry, but I don't think I hav-"

"Well, if you come across it, don't hesitate to give my assistant a quick call." She interrupts, turning back to the mirror to fiddle with her hair. I nod and turn on my heel, hesitantly walking out of the bathroom and back into the gym.

I stride quickly over to the benches and pick up my water bottle, taking a quick swig as I try to watch the other test group carry out the last of their exam. I feel the bench shift as another player sits down next to me.

"If I had a dime for every time I saw Ginny Weasley's conflicted face, I wouldn't have to play Quidditch anymore." I glance at Joan before taking another sip of water. "You doing okay?" This is probably the first thing she has said to me all season.

I shrug, "I've been better." I say, under my breath. The doors open once more and we both glance over as Christina enters the gym, hair in a perfect knot and a perfect smirk plastered on her face.

"I've never liked that bint." Joan says, watching the Chaser before rolling her eyes, "Although if she's the reason we have our first real conversation in over a year, I guess I can't hate her that badly."

I snort, "Oh Joan; always the optimist." I snap the lid back onto the water and throw it in my gym bag; "I'm assuming you saw me go into the bathroom after her."

She nodded, watching the test group in front of us, "I can only imagine the pow-wow that took place in that loo."

I give her a sarcastic sigh, "She asked me if I had one of Teddy's books at my house because her and Harry can't find it, and my mother insinuated that it could be with me."

"So, her and your mum are all buddy-buddy now?" She gives an annoyed smirk.

"Apparently so, but who really knows." I answer, not wanting to think about my family's relationship with a total stranger.

"That would piss me off." Joan comments, studying my face closely. She pushes on, "If my ex-boyfriend brought his new girlfriend over to meet my parents and spend time with my family without me there, I'd probably let Hell break loose."

I shake my head, "Yeah, but it's a different situation there; the only family Harry ever had was my own. My parents accepted Harry as their youngest son and when we started dating they made it clear that if we broke up, we'll have to deal with seeing each other because Harry is as much of a part of the Weasley family as the rest of us. So, to be honest, Harry bringing Christina to meet my parents is like he's bringing her to meet _his_ parents."

"But that puts you in an uncomfortable situation."

"Yeah, well, I don't think they'd really have to worry about that ever happening."

She shakes her head, "Merlin, is there ever a dull moment in your life, Weasley, or is this how it is all of the time?"

"To be honest, I'm not so sure; I need to actually live in a dull moment before I can make my decision." I chuckle, chancing a glance at her.

Joan smiles at me; for the first time in over a year, "Well, I can say one thing for sure; we are going to kill Portree next month. And if we don't, I'll soak her panties in hot sauce for you. We'll see who has the last laugh after that."

* * *

_1 April, 2001_

_ "The Pride, the Pride of Portree. _

_ The team that plays for victory!_

_ The Pride, the pride of Portree._

_ We will win against the Harpies!" _

"Do you hear that?" Gwen barks at us, as we sit along the lockers in the changing rooms. She paces up and down the aisle, getting ready to start her pre-match rant, "We can hear them chanting their little song all the way down here. This is what happens when you go to another's team home pitch, and the only way to leave with any dignity is to beat them out of the water. Not by ten points, not by twenty, not even by fifty. We have to win with a significant lead in order to leave this arena with our heads held high. If not, people can attribute it to luck, and if I see one article that says the Harpies won by sheer luck, I will not be happy."

I glance at Joan before plastering my eyes back down to my clasped hands.

Gwenog continues, "When we fly out onto that field, I want to see game faces. If I see any of you distracted, I swear I'll sit you out of this match faster than you even realized what you did. Now, strap up your boots, review the plays, tie your hair back and I'll see you out on the pitch in five minutes." And with that, the team captain left the locker room with no other remarks.

"How are you feeling, Red?" Joan nudges my shoulder as she settles herself next to me on the bench.

"Fine," I answer, pulling my hair up into a loose plait, she spares me an unbelieving glance, "I mean-I'm just-I guess, I'm a little nervous."

She nods, "I heard a rumor that your family is here." My head snaps up and I search her face for any sign of a joke, "Just wanted to let you know before you flew out there."

I feel my heartbeat quicken, and it feels as though my arms are numb. The feeling that courses through me is that feeling that you get when you're unsure if something is wrong. Like the feeling that you have as you search through your purse when you think you left your wallet behind somewhere. Joan squeezes my shoulder in reassurance before turning to leave the locker room. I take a few deep breaths and I sip my water, trying to calm down the new nerves that snuck their way into my mind.

Hesitantly, I stride out of the locker room alone and grab the broomstick labeled, _"Ginny Weasley: Chaser." _

_You can do this, Ginny. You can do this;_ I play over and over in my head. I can do this. I can go out into the stadium, and I can fly through the air. I can see my family in the stands and not be distracted. I can look at the group of redheads and not allow them to fog my mind. I can focus on the game with twelve sets of eyes focused upon me and still not screw it up. I can do this.

Approaching the open gates that serve as the threshold to the field, I mount my broom, taking one last breath, and take off. It's so easy to feel liberated when your hair flies behind you and you climb higher and higher in the air. Almost all of your troubles and worries dissolve when the deafening sound of wind and cheers roar in your ears. The only thing on your mind when you're up in the air is which hands hold the Quaffle and how can you get it into your own.

"Red," Joan calls out to me, nodding her head to the side, "Three o'clock. In the VIP box." I fly up to be in level with her, and take a spot next to her so that I can look at the family box but appear to be having a conversation with Joan to any outside party.

There they are. The ladies of the family sitting down in the chairs and the men standing close to the windows concentrating on the warm-ups of the Quidditch teams. Actually, most of the eyes are on me as I fake a discussion with Joan. I look down to fix my glove, trying to make myself look busy. I look up once more to really take in their presence.

And I see him. Except, surprisingly he's not wearing the purple of the Pride. Actually, none of the Weasley clan is. But, they're not wearing the dark green of the Harpies, either. You never would have guessed that black, the color of neutrality, would warm your heart like it had mine.

"You're okay, right?" She asks, concern bleeding from her eyes.

I send her a sad smile, "I'm fine. Let's just focus on the game, okay?"

And we did. And we won.

Who would have thought, with the stats we've had this season that we would have beaten an undefeated team. _Harpies. Harpies. Harpies, _echoes through the stadium as we return to the gates and parade down the halls to the locker room. There's no exact feeling that is rushing through my veins that I could describe to you at this very moment. I'm not sure if I'm feeling anything at all, really.

A heavy arm is flung around my shoulder, followed by a tap on the head from a different hand, "Ding Dong, the bitch has lost!" Joan and Marie sing out, pulling me into step with them.

"Great job, ladies." Gwenog calls after us, "This is what I wanted from you today." I skip to my locker, laughing as Joan does her goofy little victory jig next to me. It seems that nothing could dampen the mood in the locker room. Not the sight of the Pride's lead chaser crying after the last bell rang whilst the snitch was in Sarah's hand. Not the sight of fans in purple sitting in their seats with defeated looks sprinkling their features. Not even the beat that my heart skipped when I looked up and saw that my family was not sad yet not happy as I was tackled to the ground by the rest of the Harpies.

I feel my grin begin to fall as I think of my family, dressed in blacks, blues and the like watching me as I scored every goal.

"How about some sushi tonight? On me?" Cecilia yells over the rest of us. I look over my shoulder and smile at her. We all quickly change out of our sweaty jerseys and equipment, and slip our jumpsuits on.

As the seven of us walk out, we are bombarded with flashes from cameras and cheers from fans. All of our bodyguards clear a path for us so that we can quickly rush to the press conference table where the professional reporters sit and wait for our arrival.

When I look up I can already see the other Portree players wearing their black and purple jumpsuits, sitting in the seats on the far side of the table. Joan once again claps her hand onto my shoulder whispering for me to put on a grin.

We, as coolly as possible, take our seats and look out at the reporters, families and other personnel that crowd up near the table. In the front is the reporters; rightfully so, since these press conferences are for them to make their articles. Next is the crew for each newspaper that is in charge of taking pictures for the reporters up front. And, lastly, in the back is where the families of the players sit. No need for me to explain whom I was searching for when I settled into my seat.

"Gwenog! Gwenog!"

"Young! Violet Young!"

"Joan! Sarah! Ginny!"

Reporters everywhere scream to have their voices heard, but it's not until the emcee calls on someone that everyone settles down to a respectable volume of zero.

"Ms. Jones, what was your strategy when going into the match today?" I hear Gwenog reply with some boring answer everyone expects, something with thinking on our feet, being fully focused on making the goals and blah, blah, blah.

Five minutes pass by. Ten minutes pass by. Twenty minutes pass by until Joan nudges me in the side. I look over at her and she sends me a look that tells me, whoops, I've just been asked a question.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that, please?" I feel my face heat up with embarrassment that I had zoned out at a press conference that, of course, my family is at and probably is judging me through.

"What do you think was the highlights of your performance today?" The reporter repeats, a Quick Quill at the ready.

"Oh, um, I'm not sure really," I pause, "I think I did very well with thinking on my feet; for instance, when Christina, erm, Gordon dropped the Quaffle, I caught it from under her before allowing any of the Pride to. And just being able to adapt to each situation that arose through the game." The reporter nods, not looking as though he was very impressed with my answer, but to be honest, I don't really care. No matter who the reporter is, or what happened in the match, every reporter receives the same answer to each question in every press conference. I sit back as the reporter moves on to the next player, and pray to myself that I get asked no more questions.

* * *

Almost an hour later, the press conference is announced as over and the players walk back into the locker room in order for security and stadium managers to clear the area. About ten minutes of waiting in the locker room passes, and we're finally allowed to leave the stadium and floo back to Holyhead, but I pass the fireplaces and walk straight for the lobby.

Maybe my family is waiting for me.

"Red!" I hear my name being called, "Where are you going? I thought we're going out tonight?" Joan calls out from behind me.

"We are!" I reply, "I'll meet you at the dorms." I stride through the corridor quickly, gradually hearing the volume of the crowds getting close. I sneak, trying to be as sly as possible, into the lobby, checking each face I pass by for any resemblance to myself.

"Harry!" I hear a girl call out, and I watch as a blonde girl from across lobby runs into a man's arms.

"Great Job, today." I hear him reply. I'm in a close enough distance to where I can focus in on their interlude but can stay hidden from anyone surrounding them.

"Thanks," she smiles up at him, her sparkling blue eyes obviously recovered from the tear-fest she had no more than two hours ago. "Oh, Molly, how are you?" I watch as she embraces my mother.

"Fine, dear." Mum replies, wearing a warm smile, "You played effortlessly, despite the outcome."

"Yeah, it seemed pretty close, anyone could have won." George interjects and gives a friendly side hug to the girl in the purple jumpsuit, "For a moment there I thought the Pride was going to take it all the way home."

I take a couple steps backward, retracting myself into the swarm of witches and wizards around me. I don't think my absence is holding anyone up. I turn on my heel and walk out of the lobby and back to the fireplaces. I guess I'll just go out with the girls tonight.

* * *

xxx

"So, are you all up for an early dinner?" Christina asks, tucked under Harry's arm.

"Sure," Hermione replies, hand clasping onto Ron's, "but first I was hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of Ginny. You know, wish her congratulations."

Molly rises to her toes to peer over the crowd of fans, hoping to find her daughter heading her way.

"Mum, I doubt she's coming." Bill interjects, "If she wanted to come and talk to us she would have already been out here." Bill had been quite cold when it came to the topic of his younger sister. He was the same way when he had heard the news that Percy decided that he didn't want to associate with the family any longer. Of course, that was old news and the two brothers had patched up any gashes over three years ago.

"Well, maybe she's just caught up with team meetings, or maybe autographs, or something." The matriarch replies, sending a look of hope to her eldest born.

"We'll give her a few more minutes." Arthur assures, placing a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder. Since the day he had sent his daughter out of the Burrow, he had been feeling guilty, but he had been too proud to follow her back to her house and apologize, nor send a letter the day after with his expression of regret. At the moment, he could completely understand why his daughter wouldn't come out to see her family after the match; with the way the media had twisted his words and inflated the drama between the two parties, he would stay away as well.

By this point, it didn't matter who was right; he just wanted to talk to his daughter to tell her how sorry he was for yelling at her, and for not reaching out when Harry had told him what he had seen in Ginny's living room.

"I guess, she's not coming, Dad." Ron whispers, quiet enough so that his mother didn't hear but his father could.

"I suppose you're right. Come on, Molly, let's go grab something to eat." He mutters, steering his wife and family out through the front doors of the Pride's stadium. He looks forward, watching Harry and Christina walk together. There was definitely attraction between the two, but nothing like what he would see between his daughter and the young lad. There was chemistry between this new couple, but not the kind that would create explosions like the rapport between Harry and Ginny would.

Christina was a likeable girl; one couldn't say anything negative about her. She had been accepting of Harry's relationship with the Weasleys-even seemed comfortable with it. She was happy and sweet, but not too much; she seemed genuinely kind. She definitely was a good influence on Arthur's 'youngest' and adoptive son, but when he watched the two together he didn't find himself rooting for the two to spend eternity together like he had with the boy's past relationship.

But Arthur knew that when he and Ginny mended the broken strings, the presence of Christina would be a problem. Back in the summer after the war, he, and his wife, told Harry and Ginny that no matter what the outcome of the relationship was, Harry would always be a part of the family and was expected to continue in the Weasley family traditions and Sunday Suppers, as if the relationship never happened. Of course, that's wishful thinking, but Molly didn't want to lose anymore family members for any reason. And neither did he. Yet, here he was, walking to a restaurant with an empty space next to him-one that could only be filled with a short, red headed girl that shared his last name.

xxx

* * *

**A/N: So, what are you thinking? Do you think Arthur has a right to feel guilty? Do you think Ginny has a right to be nervous to approach her family? What do you think of Christina? And more importantly, do you think Ginny has Teddy's book? Please review!**


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